Burned
by Silas Dane
Summary: AU Blake grew up in a very religious and strict environment, but very brutal. She grows up, learning what her place in life is. Experiencing things she never would venture, finding out what love really is, and what real pain means. Warning: This story covers very sensitive topics, read at your own discretion. Inspired by Ellen Hopkins's Burned.
1. Chapter 1

When you were little, did you ever endure your parents' warnings, then wait for them to leave the room, pry loose protective covers and consider inserting some metal object into an electrical outlet? Did you wonder if for once you might light up the room?

When you were big enough to cross the street on your own, did you ever wait for a signal, hear the frenzied approach of a police cruiser and feel like stepping out in front of it? Did you wonder just how far that rocket ride might take you?

When you were almost grown, did you ever sit in a bubble bath, perspiration pooling, notice a blow-dryer that's within easy reach, and think about dropping it into the water? Did you wonder if the expected rush might somehow fail you?

And now, do you ever dangle your toes over the precipice, dare the cliff to crumble, defy the frozen deity to suffer the sun, thaw feather and bone, take wing to fly you home?

No?

I, Blake Belladonna, do.

* * *

**A/N: Hello everybody. This was a story inspired by a book called Burned by Ellen Hopkins. And because of how good this book is, I will not be changing much in terms of words and concept. The only thing I will tweak are the characters and some settings. But I will stay true to the way Ellen Hopkins wrote this story, which you will notice are very short chapters. And if you pick up the book, you will notice that I copied and pasted almost everything.**

**Disclaimer: Plot, dialogue, some characters, and ideas accredited to Ellen Hopkins. RWBY characters belong to Rooster Teeth and have rights to them and the few RWBY settings I randomly inserted into this story.**

**Now that that's out of the way. I must warn you that this story is not for the feint of heart. It touches on some very sensitive topics like depression, suicide, religion, role of women, teenage drama, domestic abuse, etc. Read at your own risk. Also as a bit of a spoiler, this story does not have a happy ending. **

**That is all.**

**Silas Dane**


	2. Chapter 2

I'm not exactly sure when I began to feel that way. Maybe a little piece of me always has. It's hard to remember.

But I do know things really began to spin out of control after my first sex dream.

As sex dreams go, there wasn't much sex, just a collage of very hot kisses, and Neptune Vasilias's hands, exploring every inch of my body, at my fervent invitation.

As a stalwart Faunus high school junior, drilled ceaselessly about the dire catastrophe awaiting those who harbored impure thoughts, I had never kissed a boy.

I had never even considered that I might enjoy such an unclean thing, until literature opened my eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

See, the library was my sanctuary. Through middle school, the librarians were like guardian angels. Spinterish guardian angels, with graying hair and beady eyes, magnified through reading glasses, and always ready to recommend new literary windowsmto gaze through.

Then I started high school, where the not-so-bookish librarian was half angel, half she-devil, so sayeth the rumor mill. I hardly cared. Ms. Rose was all I could hope I might one day be: aspen physique, new black hair with crimson locks, aurora green eyes, and hands that could speak. She walked on air. Ms. Rose shuttered old windows, opened portals undreamed of. And just beyond, what fantastic worlds!


	4. Chapter 4

I met her my freshman year.

All wide-eyed and dim about starting high school, a big new school, with polished hallways and hulking lockers and doors and doors that led who-knew-where?

A scary new school, filled with towering teachers and snickering students, impossible schedules, tough expectations, and endless possibilities.

The library, with its paper perfume, whispered queries, and copy machine shuffles, was the only familiar place on the entire campus.

And there was Ms. Rose. "How can I help you?"

Fresh off a fling with C. S. Lewis and Madeline L'Engle, hungry for travel far from home, I whispered, "Fantasy, please."

She smiled. "Follow me. I know just where to take you."

I shadowed her to Tolkien's Middle-earth and Rowling's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

"When you finish those, I'd be happy to show you more."


	5. Chapter 5

Fantasy segued into darker dimensions.

And authors who used three whole names: Vivian Vande Velde, Annette Curtis Klause. Mary Downing Hahn.

By my sophomore year, I was deep into adult horror: King, Koontz, Rice.

"You must try classic horror," insisted Ms. Rose.

Poe, Wells, Stoker, Stevenson, Shelley.

"There's more to life than monsters. You'll love these authors."

Burroughs, Dickens, Kipling, London. Bradbury, Chaucer, Henry David Thoreau.

"And these."

Jane Austen. Arthur Miller. Charlotte Brontë. F. Scott Fitzgerald. J. D. Salinger.

By my junior year, I devoured increasingly adult fare. Most, I hid under my dresser.

D. H. Lawrence. Truman Capote. Ken Kesey. Jean Auel. Marry Higgins Clark. Danielle Steel.


	6. Chapter 6

I began to view the world at large through borrowed eyes, eyes more like those I wanted to own.

Hopeful.

I began to see that it was more than okay-it was, in some circles, expected-to question my little piece of the planet.

Empowered.

I began to understand that I could stretch if I wanted to, explore if I dared, escape if I just put one foot in front of the other.

Enlightened.

I began to realize that escape might offer the only real hope of freedom from my supposed given roles-wife and mother of as many babies as my body could bear.

Emboldened.


	7. Chapter 7

I also began to journal.

What would I write in a book everyone was allowed to read?

Some splendid nonfiction chronicle about sharing a three-bedroom house with six younger sisters, most of whom I'd been required to diaper?

Some suspend-your-disbelief fiction about how picture-perfect life was at home, forget the whole dysfunctional truth about Dad's alcohol-fueled tirades?

Some brilliant manifesto about how the Creator whispered sweet insights into my ear, higher truths that I would hold onto forever, once I'd shared them through spoken word?

Or maybe they wanted trashy confessions-Daydreams Designed by the Devil.

Whatever. I'd never written but a few words in my mandated diary.

Maybe it was the rebel in me. Or maybe it was just the lazy in me.

But faithfully penning a journal was the furthest thing from my mind.


	8. Chapter 8

Ms. Rose had other ideas.

One day I brought a stack of books, most of them I would get in trouble for having, to the checkout counter.

Ms. Rose looked up and smiled. "You are quite the reader, Blake. You'll be a writer one day, I'll venture."

I shook my head. "Not me. Who'd want to read anything I have to say?"

She smiled. "How about you? Why don't you start with a journal?"

So I gave her the whole lowdown of why journaling was not my thing.

"A very good reason to keep a journal just for you. One you don't have to write in."

A day or two later, she gave me one plump, thin-lined, with a plain denim cover.

"Decorate it with your words." She said. "And don't be afraid of what goes inside."


	9. Chapter 9

I wasn't sure what she meant.

Until I opened the stiff-paged volume and started to write.

At first, rathers ordinary fare garnished the lines.

Feb. 6: Good day at school. Got an A on my history paper.

Feb. 9: Ruby has strep throat. Great! Now we'll all get it.

But as the year progressed, I began to feel I was living in a stranger's body.

Mar. 15: Neptune Vasilias smiled at me today. I can't believe it! And I can't believe how it made me feel. Kind of tingly all over, like I had an itch I didn't want to scratch. An itch you-know-where.

Mar. 17: I dreamed about Neptune last night. Dreamed he kissed me, and I kissed him back, and I let him touch me all over my body, and I woke up all hot and blushing. Blushing! LIke I'd done something wrong. Can a dream be wrong? Aren't dreams supposed to be the Creator's way of telling you things?


	10. Chapter 10

Neptune Vasilias was one of the designated "hot bods" on campus.

No surprise all the girls hotly pursued that bod.

The only surprise was my subconscious interest.

I mean he was anything but a good White Fang boy.

And I, allegedly being a good White Fang girl, was supposed to keep , my feminine thoughts pure.

Easy enough, while struggling with stacks of books, piles of paper, and mounds of adolescent angst.

Easy enough, while chasing after a herd of siblings, each the product of lustful, if legally married, behavior.

Easy enough, while watching other girls pant after him.

But just how do you maintain pure thoughts when you dream?


	11. Chapter 11

I suppose that's the kind of thing some girls could ask their moms.

But Mom and I didn't talk a whole lot about what makes the world go round.

Conversation tended to run toward who'd wash the dishes, who'd dust the vacuum, who'd change the diapers.

In a house with seven kids, the oldest always seemed to draw diaper duty. Mom worked real hard to avoid Luvs.

In fact, that's the hardest she ever worked at anything. Am I saying my mom was lazy? I guess I am.

As more of us girls went off to school each day, the house got dirtier and dirtier.

If we wanted clean clothes we loaded the washer.

If we wanted clean dishes we had to clear the sink.

Mom watched a lot of TV. She didn't have a job, of course.

Dad wouldn't hear of it, which made Mom extremely happy.

I think she saw her profession as populating the world with girls.


	12. Chapter 12

Seven girls

That's all Mom ever managed to give Dad. He named everyone after a famous general, always planning on a son. Except Velvet and I.

A son, to replace the two his first wife had given him, the two he'd lost.

"Glynda," I heard him tell Mom more than once, "if you don't pop out a boy next time, I'm getting my money back on you."

But she carried no money-back guarantee. And the baby girls just kept coming.

In reverse order: Blake; Velvet; Roberta; Davie; Teddie; Ulyssa; Jackie.

No nicknames, no shortcuts, use every syllable, every letter, because there would be no "half-ass" in Dad's house.

It's disturbing, I know. But Dad was Dad so Mom went along.


	13. Chapter 13

One time, one day between Davie and Velvet, I asked my mom why she persisted.

Why she kept on having baby after baby.

She looked at me, at a spot between my eyes.

Blinking like I had suddenly fallen crazy.

She paused before answering.

As if to confide would legitimize my fears.

She drew a deep breath, leaned against the chair.

I touched her hand and I thought she might cry.

Instead she put Davie in my arms.

"Blake," she said, "it's a woman's role."

I decided if it was my role, I'd rather disappear.


	14. Chapter 14

In my view, having babies was supposed to be something beautiful, not a duty.

Something incredible, not role-playing.

Bringing new life into this dying world, promising hope for a saner tomorrow.

As I saw it, any expectation of sanity rested in a woman's womb.

The Creator should have given Eve another chance.

Instead, He turned her away, no way to make the world better.


	15. Chapter 15

Regardless.

Barring blizzards or bouts of projectile vomiting, I attended every White Fang meeting every week.

And that week was no exception.

Three solid hours of crying babies and uninspired speeches, all orchestrated by male leaders that claimed the role without any say from us followers.

The message came through loud and clear: Women are inferior. And society likes it that way.


	16. Chapter 16

Silly me.

I refused to believe it.

Not only that, but I began to resent the whole idea.

I had watched women crushed beneath the weight of dreams, smashed.

I had seen them bow down before their husbands, and not just figuratively.

I had witnessed bone-chilling abuse, no questions, no help, no escape.

All in the hopes that when they died, and reached up from the grave, their husbands would grab hold, tug hard, and allow them to enter heaven.

As I sat through that meeting, observing those women smile and nod and kowtow, my warped little mind wondered if any of them ever dreamed about really hot guys.


	17. Chapter 17

The next day in Chemistry Lab, Mr. Oobleck partnered me with Weiss Schnee. Her style was a white dress and high heels.

"Oh good," she said, "I get a competent partner. Guess there won't be any fires today."

Weiss and Bunsen burners were incompatible. One time she singed the ends of her perfect white hair.

My life was in danger!

Weiss poured water into the beaker. "You light the burner, Black."

Black? That's what you use to describe things. Part of me wanted to say something nasty. The cautious part won out. "Please call me Blake."

"That's actually a pretty name." Her perfect finger nails tapped the counter.

Actually? As I added salt to the beaker, Mr. Oobleck stepped out of the room. Not two minutes later, guess who walked through the door?


	18. Chapter 18

Neptune sauntered over.

Totally defining the word "saunter."

For one completely insane minute, I forgot about my lab partner and actually thought he was coming over to talk to me.

A fine prickly mist of sweat broke out all over my body, chilled by a jolt of reality.

Neptune barely glanced at me before turning to Weiss.

"Hey gorgeous. Still on for Saturday?"


	19. Chapter 19

Zap!

I was nobody.

So why would I think he wanted to talk to me?

And why wouldn't he want to talk to Weiss, who had everything I would never have.

Beauty, money, confidence (okay, conceit)?

Neptune slid his arm around her tiny waist, walked his long fingers along her curves.

I couldn't keep from watching out of the corner of one eye, jealousy seeping from , my pores, sourdough perfume.

Weiss pretended to be offended. "Stop it, Neptune. Everybody's watching. And what if Mr. Oobleck comes back right now?"

But she ddidn't try to move his hand and in fact, curled tighter against his torso.

Zap!

I was nobody.

Someday, would another nobody slide his arm around my waist, walk his hand up under my homemade blouse?

And would I draw back into the curve of him, close my eyes, and take pleasure in his heat?


	20. Chapter 20

Daydreams bite.

At least in chemistry lab.

As my body broke out in a bone-chilling sweat, Mr. Oobleck snuck up behind me.

"Don't add the oil yet, Blake. Pay attention!"

I jumped, knocking over the beaker of salt water, with an oil float.

Exxon Valdez in a miniature!

"I'm surprised, Blake. Usually you're so careful."

Usually I wasn't confronted by sex dreams in the flesh;

living, breathing sex dreams, with a Weiss twist.

"Clean up your mess. Then perhaps you should start over."

I turned to apologize to my lab partner, but she and Neptune had slipped out the door.

No doubt before Mr. Oobleck returned.

Timing is everything.


	21. Chapter 21

Timing was poor.

The next afternoon-Friday afternoon.

Mom asked me to run out back to the storage shed to get a jar of spaghetti sauce from our emergency supplies.

Imagine, storing enough food and water to nurture a family of nine for a year, "when shit hit the fan and it all came crashing down."

Dad's aged Subaru was already parked out back.

Some Fridays he got off early from his job, working security at the state legislature.

He saw it as a decent occupation which paid the bills and provided insurance and retirement.

I saw it as kind of boring most of the time, with the odd takedown to provide a rush of adrenaline and a blush of importance.

Anyway, somewhere between stacks of batteries, boxes of bullets, and countless cans of tuna, Spam, and beans was Dad's stack of Johnnie WB.

Weeknights, he'd duck outside for an after-dinner belt.

Just enough to allow sleep.

But come Friday afternoon, he'd head straight for his good buddy Johnnie. They partied hearty.

And the party had already started.


	22. Chapter 22

As I approached the shed I heard his voice.

Thick as caramel on his tongue.

"Leave me alone. I can't help you now."

Part of me wanted to run. Part of me had to listen.

"Goddammit, Summer, go away. Please."

Summer. His first wife. The true love of his life.

"I miss Cardin too, you know I do."

Cardin, who carried soldier in his genes.

"I couldn't tell him not to go, could I?"

Their first son, killed in a firefight in Somalia.

"What's that? Fuck Jaune, the friggin' wimp."

Their second son, until he came out of the closet.

"No dammit. No son of mine will not take it from another man."

So he told him to never show his face nearby again.

"But you didn't have to do what you did!"

One son dead, the other shunned, Summer folded.

"Don't you know how much I miss you?"

Put a .357 into her mouth, pulled the trigger.

"Oh god, Summer, please stop crying."


	23. Chapter 23

The long pause told me it wasn't Summer who was sobbing.

I never heard my Dad cry before.

How many times had I tried my best to hate that complicated man?

But this tiny piece of me kept thinking back to another happier time.

When Mom loved Dad.

And me.

And Dad loved Mom.

And me.

At least as much as he could ever settle into.

That impenetrable artic land where his ghosts had carried his heart.


	24. Chapter 24

I sort of remember crawling up into Daddy's lap.

When Dad was still Daddy.

Nodding my head against his chest, soaking in the comfort of his heat.

Listening to the thump . . . thump, somewhere beneath muscle and breastbone.

I remember his arms, their sublime encircling, and the shadow of his voice.

"I love you, little girl. Put away your bad dreams.

Daddy's here."

I put them away.

Until Daddy became my nightmare.

The one that came home from work everyday and, instead of picking me up, chased me far, far away.


	25. Chapter 25

One thing already decided was spaghetti for dinner.

Mom was waiting for the sauce, Dad had already hit the sauce, and it wasn't tomato.

Now Dad had never laid a hand on us girls (not so far, anyway).

I wasn't afraid of that.

But I didn't want to disturb his demons anymore than he already had.

Plus I knew he was sick of spaghetti.

I started to sing loud, so he'd know I was coming.

To make double-sure, I clomped across the wooden walkway, sounding pretty much like a cow.

Dad was too far gone to care. He had quit talking to Summer.

Now he whispered to the other spirits who crowded his life.

"You're dead, you fucking bastards. You're all the same. Go on back to hell. Your babies need you."

I creaked the door open. "Dad? It's me, Blake."

Didn't want him to think I was a bastard in the flesh. "Mom needs some spaghetti sauce."

The shed fell silent for a second or two as Dad tried to collect himself.

When he finally did, my words sank in.

"Spaghetti? Again? You tell your mother I won't be sharing the dinner table tonight. I'm going looking for Julia Child."

I didn't dare mention she was dead, althiugh he probably would have felt right at home in her company.


	26. Chapter 26

Even without Dad the dinner table remained eerily quiet.

As if each one of us, even the little ones, intuited what was to come.

Mom rarely expected Dad for dinner on Friday night.

Johnnie, it seemed, was always on a diet.

Usually we chatted and giggled, hoping Dad would wander in late, settle down on the sofa, and watch mindless TV until he fell deep, deep asleep.

Relatively harmless.

Often, it happened that way.

We'd all tip toe off to bed, leaving dad to his nightmares.

In the morning, we'd wake to irrefutable proof of Mom's undying love.

Dad, snoozing on the couch, under a blanket.

But tonight was different.


	27. Chapter 27

That night, Dad staggered in, eyes eerily lit.

The corners of his mouth foaming spit.

His demons planned an overnight stay.

Mom motioned to take the girls away, hide them in their rooms safe in their beds.

We closed the doors, covered our heads.

As if blankets could mute the sounds of his blows or we could silence Mom's screams beneath our pillows.

I hugged the littlest ones close to my chest, till the beat of heart lulled them to rest.

Only then did I let myself cry.

Only then did I let myself wonder why Mom didn't fight back.

Didn't defend herself.

Didn't confess to family or friend.

Had dad's demons claimed her soul?

Or was this, as well, a woman's role?


	28. Chapter 28

When the house fell quiet, Velvet and I whispered very late into the night.

We talked about Mom.

"She used to be so pretty," Velvet sighed.

"Too many worries will take your pretty away."

We talked about Dad.

"Do you think he's an alcoholic?"

"Do you think he can stop?" I pointed out. "Then he's an alcoholic."

We talked about the two of them.

"Why does he do it? Why doesn't she leave him?"

"Where would she go that he couldn't follow?"

"Why doesn't she tell?" Velvet asked.

I looked at her. "Who would care?"


	29. Chapter 29

After a while, she asked, "Do you ever wish you were someone else?"

"All the time." I said without a second thought. "Who'd want to be me?"

Velvet smiled. "I would. You're smarter than most, Blake."

"What's so great about being smart?"

"The Creator has something in mind for you. Something special."

"You think the Creator would let a girl do something special?" Blake was still upset by everyone's view of women.

"Not every girl, maybe just you. You're different."

I felt different. Still, "How do you know?"

"I can see it in your eyes, Blake, when they stop and stare."

"What?" What could she see, buried inside of me?

"You're not like the rest of us. You're not afraid."


	30. Chapter 30

That made me think.

I felt angry.

Frustrated.

I didn't belong, not with the White Fang, not in my home, not in my skin.

Amidst the chaos, I felt alone.

In need of a friend instead of a sister, someone detached from my world.

The "woman's role" theory disgusted me.

I would soon be a woman and I knew I could never perform as expected.

I was tired of my mom's submission to the White Fang, to her husband's sick quest for an heir, to his abuse.

I was sick of my dad, of reaching for him as he fell farther away from us and into the arms of Johnnie WB.

Something bigger drew my worry.

The creeping cold in my own famished heart, emptiness expanding.

Some days I was only sad, others I straddled depression.

But I was definitely not afraid.

Which brought me up short.

If I wasn't afraid, I must be crazy. Right?

Didn't dads who hit moms usually wind up hitting their kids too? (And sometimes worse?)

Or maybe that's what I wanted?

Did some insane little piece of me think even that might be better than no relationship with my father at all?

And why wasn't I afraid of the path already plotted for me?

Mission work, early marriage, brainwashing my own kids?

Did that same mixed up part of my brain somehow believe I could circumvent all I'd ever been groomed for?

Perhaps all I was really good for.

_The Creator has something special in mind for you._

I knew deep down Velvet was right.

But how would I ever find out, mired there in the Belladonna bog?


	31. Chapter 31

I tried asking the Creator once.

"What do you have in mind for me?"

I listened really hard, opened my ears and heart.

I looked for signs, in places expected and not expected.

But I never heard His answer, never got one little hint of His plans.

Which was either good or bad, depending on your point of view.

Because if He would have mentioned then what He had in mind,

I would have thanked Him for His faith in me, then tucked my tail and run.


	32. Chapter 32

I slithered out of bed the next morning.

Hungry for a little target practice-a great way to blow off steam.

I walked a long way out into the desert, absorbing the faux spring day.

Every year, two or three weeks of fine weather interrupted our winter deep freeze.

Teasing soil into thaw and stream into melt and plants into breaking leaf.

It was all a game, all for show, as if the Creator understood we needed to defrost our spirits, too.

As I walked, I thought about Dad, at home, using this fabulous day to tune his car.

When I was little, he used to hike this very route, lugging his favorite rifle.

I always begged to go along, mostly as a way to spend some time alone with him.

I was ten when he finally said yes, and didn't I feel like the favored one?

Dad and I went out to the shed. He unlocked the cabinet that housed his guns.

Hunting rifles. Shotguns. Pistols. And one little .22 "peashooter," just right for me.

"This was Cardin's," Dad said. "I don't suppose he'd mind, as long as you take good care of it."

He made me carry my own gun.

I knew he would have made Cardin do the same, so I tried my best not to complain.

But by the time we'd walk far enough so an errant shot had only sand or sage to hurt, that little peashooter felt like a cannon.

Dad showed me how to load it, flip the safety, sight in the tin-can target.

"Squeeze the trigger, little girl. Don't pull."

I pulled, of course.

The barrel lifted, lofting the bullet high and wide right.

"Try again. Take your time."

I brought the .22 to my shoulder, willed my aching arms to quit shaking.

"Level the sight. Breathe in. Ease the trigger."

The shot wasn't dead center, but it hit the top of the can with a satisfying BLING!

"Better. Do it again. Concentrate. And relax."

Concentrate. Level the sight. Breathe in. Ease the trigger. And relax?

BLAP! The can somersaulted across the sand.

Pride swelled till I thought I'd burst.

But my smile slipped at Dad's reality check. "Not bad. Pretty good, in fact. For a girl."


	33. Chapter 33

After that, I still tagged along with Dad sometimes. He taught me a lot on those outings:

How to account for the wind's contrary nature, its irritating whims;

How to move silently across the sand, a no-brainer compared to the jungle;

How to aim slightly in front of a moving target, assuming a straight-on run.

I even brought home a rabbit or two for Mom's always-hungry stew pot.

But I could never be Cardin. And Dad never let me forget it.

Finally, I did my target shooting alone.

Killing bunnies was not the point, drawing blood, watching life ebb, pulse by pulse.

No that wasn't it at all.

Neither was feeding the family. Not my job for sure. Dad and Mom made us kids, only right they fed us.

And the whole skinning and gutting thing well, that was enough to make your skin crawl.

Truly, though, the attraction was more than just being good, really good, at something for a change.

The lure of my little peashooter was in its gift to me, in the way only it could make me feel.

Powerful.


	34. Chapter 34

By the time I started high school, I was a dead-on shot.

I spent a lot of Saturdays maintaining that distinction.

You might think a teenager's parents would take notice when she disappeared into the desert for hours at a time (with a rifle and purloined ammo, no less!)

But Mom only noticed diapers in need of changing.

By then I could bribe Ruby to do it. All it took was my own silence about her less than "decent" behaviors.

And as for Dad, well, he and Johnnie had started to buddy up almost all day, almost every Saturday.

How he sobered up by Sunday morning was a complete mystery.

On that Saturday morning, he'd already started, which made me thankful for my solo time in the silent desert.

I trudged along, brain only partially engaged, and about halfway to my favorite place, my mind veered from Dad back to chemistry lab.

Jealousy rushed, hot, through my veins.

But why?

I mean it wasn't like Neptune had ever really been mine.

Dreams were only dreams.

It wasn't like my life had changed at all, and maybe that was part of the problem.

Because something inside me was different. Shifting like a tide or sand dune.

That something was growing, stretching, taking shape beneath my skin.

And I wondered if very soon it might blow me apart at the seams.


	35. Chapter 35

I thought about that as I set up a long, thin row of Udder Satisfaction cans (single serving, not the big, easy-to-hit kind).

Loaded my peashooter, took aim, and . . . missed wide with the first shot, high with the second.

Checked my sights; they didn't look bent. Tried again.

Skittered up dirt, nicked a can with the ricochet.

_Timing_, I heard my dad's voice in my head.

Then he added, _What could you expect from a girl?_

That did the trick.

I settled down into my zone, took out that row of cans one by one, not a single miss.

As I lined them up again, an annoying mechanical whine broke the morning's tranquility.

Louder. Louder. A three-pack of quadrunners sprinted closer and closer across the sage-studded sand.

I didn't dare take another shot until they passed by and rode off to disturb distant eardrums.

Instead they slowed, drew even, and stopped. Three guesses who drove the first quad.

One guess who rode behind him.


	36. Chapter 36

Neptune took off his helmet and climbed off his quad. Weiss did likewise.

The others-Ren and Nora on quad number 2, Sun solo on number 3-remained astraddle.

"Hey, Black," tittered Weiss. "Watcha doing all the way out here?"

I stood, .22 by my side, taking deviant satisfaction as her eyes went wide.

Neptune surveyed the rifle. "Target shootin', huh?"

My voice tried to stick behind my tonsils, but somehow I choked out a solid, "Uh-huh."

He slithered over. "You any good with that thing?"

I nodded, heart hiccuping at his proximity. "Good enough, I guess."

He moved closer behind me, stood way too close. "Okay, then. Show me."

I couldn't, not with my hands trembling like saplings in a summer zephyr.

Neptune noticed, whispered in my ear. "I'm not making you nervous, am I?"

He was making Weiss nervous, or maybe I was.

She shifted from foot to foot. "C'mon Neptune."

"Wait. I want to see her shoot."

Okay, I'd show him.

I took two steps forward, sighted in, steadied . . .

"Damn! Six clean shots. Not bad . . ."

Here it comes. The old "for a girl" addendum.

But no, he said instead, "Can I have a try?"

It was the most attention he'd ever paid to me.

I could take more. "Why not?" And let him give it a go.

"Hey, Weiss. Set up the cans."

She was irritated, and it showed, but she did as instructed.

Neptune took aim . . .

"Shitfire! One out of six." He grumbled.

As the others climbed off their quads, I suggested ways to improve his performance.

"Three out of five. Right on!" Neptune smirked.

Now everyone wanted a turn. Everyone, that is, except for Weiss.

"Come on, Weiss. Give it a try." Neptune offered her the gun.

"You know I hate guns. They're stupid." She stood off to one side, murmuring.

"Fuck you, bitch. This is fun."

We had fun for an hour, maybe more.

For once, I lost track of time, found I didn't care what timemit was, not in this amazing space I was somehow in.

After a while, I didn't even feel like the odd girl out of this decidedly in clique.

In fact, I felt more "in" than Weiss, who stood off by herself, carrying on about firearm danger and her personal safety.

I didn't feel bad about being with the boys, and thinking not quite good thoughts about them.

My heart insisted it wasn't wrong that they weren't part of the White Fang, either, though my head said it wasn't exactly right.

I barely flinched when Ren pulled out a pack of cigarettes, lit one for Nora, another for himself.

"Hey," squealed Weiss, "what about me?"

Neptune handed me the rifle and fished inside his pocket for his own nicotine stash. He gave one to Weiss and offered one to me.

Cigarettes are high on the list of White Fang sins because it made Faunus kin seem "more human."

The smoke, hanging like smog, made me queasy. So why was I tempted to join in?

Watching them inhale poisonous fumes, I shook my head. But maybe I looked envious, because Sun pulled closer. "Have you ever tried?"

"Don't be stupid!" said Weiss. "Don't you know? She's part of the White Fang." The words seethed from her mouth like spittle.

Sun measured me with cool brown eyes. "Could have fooled me. I didn't know White Fang girls were so pretty."

Okay, it was a line, but it put me in a heady new space.

No one had ever called me pretty before.

Not even my mom and dad.


	37. Chapter 37

Sun wasn't exactly Neptune.

Not pinup gorgeous, but he wasn't bad. And he's a Faunus.

Tall, around 6'1.

Built, with light blonde hair and light brown eyes.

Just looking at them made it feel like he was piercing through me.

His hands were soft. I discovered that when he brushed my cheek.

"So what's a nice White Fang girl like you doing in a place like this?"


	38. Chapter 38

We laughed at the old joke and talked and talked about nothing much, while the others kept their lips busy in much more interesting ways.

Lightweight conversations with a guy of Sun's caliber, clique-wise, was way beyond my loveliest fantasy.

What was I doing here? With them? With him?

And why his sudden interest in me? I mean, we weren't exactly strangers, but we'd never exactly been friends, either.

Looking back, I guess it was kind of strange. At least for me, who'd never been that close to a boy before. (Did I mention he's a Faunus?)

But I liked him. I liked his optimism, his easy way with words.

Most of all, I liked how he made me feel.

That I, Blake Belladonna, mattered.


	39. Chapter 39

After a while, Ren pulled Nora to her feet, dragged her off for a private minute or ten.

Neptune winked at Weiss. "Sounds like the right idea to me."

I had a general idea of what they had in mind.

Envy jolted.

"You like him huh?" Sun asked.

I gulped down the truth amd said simply, "He's not mine to like."

"That doesn't stop most people."

"I'm not most people, Sun." Even if I did, in fact, like him.

"So I've noticed."

With a drift of tobacco and sun-scented skin, he moved very close to me. "What I can't figure out . . . "

My heart tap-danced as he slipped his arm around my shoulder.

"is why I never really noticed you before."

With his arm around me, I asked what happened to Cinder, the girl he'd been linked with practically forever.

He shrugged. "Don't know. Guess we grew apart."

Then he asked, "What about you?"

I knew what he meant, but not how to respond. So I said, "What about me . . . what?"

He smiled and his hand toyed with my hair. "Any good White Fang guys on your line?"

On my line? I had to laugh. "No way," I admitted. "I don't think I've got the right bait."

Sun turned my face so I couldn't avoid his eyes. "Don't sell yourself short, Blake."

Oh god! This was crazy.

I thought he just might try to kiss me, when Weiss yelled.

"Crap! It's almost four. My mom is going to kill me. Let's go, you guys!"


	40. Chapter 40

Almost four!

I'd never stayed out in the desert this long!

And I had a good half-hour walk home!

What would my mom say? Anything?

I didn't want to think about Dad at all, although he and Johnnie were no doubt pretty cozy by then.

Luckily (happily), Sun offered to save me some time.

"Can I give you a ride?"


	41. Chapter 41

No spare helmet.

Sun promised to go slow and told me to hang on tight.

Rifle in my right hand, I wrapped my left around his waist, leaned my face against his back.

If I turned my head, I could hear his heartbeat, a steady drum, unlike my own hummingbird pulse.

It was all too incredible, like a scene from a movie or a page from a book, one you read again and again.

My head swam with the scent of him, the promise of him, and I never once stopped to think that being with him,

could mean the end of Blake as I knew her up until that day.


	42. Chapter 42

He dropped me off right where the dirt trail segued into pavement.

"I'll see you Monday, okay?"

Was that a promise?

A generic blow-off?

I watched him motor off, then started for home.

Slowly.

Thinking.

Trying to process the weight of my day.

For once, I didn't feel like an outcast, a major loser.

Whether or not Sun ever spoke to me again, I had fit in with the in crowd, if only for a while.

Not only that, but one of the in crowd had put his arm around me.

Maybe almost kissed me.

And I would have let him.

So what did that make me?

When I got hone though, none of that mattered.

Reality rushed in around me.

Crushed me, like the watery weight of the deepest sea.

Velvet ran out to warn me Dad had already indulged himself in Johnnie WB.

Mom had asked where to find me, and the kids were yelling for me.

I went inside, all remnants of the newfound me smothered.


	43. Chapter 43

Later on, I lay listening to the music of sleep.

Inhale.

Exhale.

A symphony of breathing, heart, steady, frail.

I shimmied out of bed, tiptoed to the bathroom.

Listening for movement, I sat a moment in the gloom.

Then I turned on the light above the narrow mirror. needing to analyze the face that appeared.

Funny, but I rarely studied my reflection, rarely allowed myself such tedious inspection.

But someone-a boy-had liked my face and I liked that he liked it.

Had I tumbled from grace?

What had he seen that I'd always missed before?

Plain golden eyes.

Long, curly black hair.

Cat ears that were concealed by a bow.

Was there something more?

Something indefinable, that somehow made me pretty, like how brilliant neon lights cheer the dirty streets of a city?

So what had he seen in me?

I pondered that all the next day, through breakfast and the pre-meeting scramble;

through three hours of droning testimony.

My thoughts were far from pure.

Through the after-chatter, squashing into the car for the short ride home.

I couldn't turn off my brain.

What did yesterday mean?

Anything?

Or was it all just another dream, one I'd dreamed while awake?

Three days ago, the only boy on my mind was Neptune.

He was a dream too. A safe dream.

Safe because he was unattainable, something to adore from afar.

Like a snow-drenched mountain or an evening star.

But what about Sun?


	44. Chapter 44

_Journal Entry, March 26_

Sun Wukong told me I'm pretty.

At least I think that's what he told me.

Pretty?

Me?

And he told me he'd see me on Monday.

Do I dare believe him?


	45. Chapter 45

I didn't dare.

Hurt seemed too likely, so on Monday I didn't go looking for him.

I was a campus loner, anyway, walking solo between classrooms, eating lunch with my sister Velvet.

Imagine my surprise when he found me at the noon break.

He smiled at Velvet. "Hi."

Then he turned to me. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

You should have seen Velvet's face as the two of us started away.

Sun steered me toward a quiet spot. "Blake, I know I'm not exactly your type . . . "

_He _wasn't my type?

Where could this be going but bad?

"What I mean is, I'm not a White Fang member. Maybe we're nothing alike at all . . . "

Understatement!

He was Chateaubriand.

I was pasta.

He reached out and touched my cheek. "But I'd really like to see you again."

Not sure whether it was his words or his touch, but my face scorched.

So of course I came up with a really great line. "Why?"

Sun's smile narrowed. "Does that mean no?"

I shook my head. "No. I just need to know why."

"I don't know . . . because you're smart and funny and . . . "

Funny as in witty? Or as in entertaining?

" . . . and you're not trying to impress anyone."

Mostly because I didn't know I _could _impress anyone.

"I happen to like you, Blake. Isn't that a good enough reason?"

It was the perfect reason. "I like you, too, Sun."

"Okay, then. Friday night? Ren's having a party."

A party? How could I possibly swing that?

Sun understood my dazed look. "Second thoughts already?"

"No, it's not that . . . not that at all . . . "

"You sure? Cause maybe this will change your mind . . . "


	46. Chapter 46

He kissed me!

Not an over-the-top, hard demanding kiss.

Not even a kiss hinting passion.

No tongue, no spit.

Just a sweet first kiss.

Sun's soft full lips gifting mine with a gentle caress.

I thought I'd die on the spot. (Later I wished I had.)

He held my hand as he walked me back to where Velvet still sat, doe-eyed.

Amazed.

He didn't know, but Velvet did, that I was someone new.

Reborn.

The bell rang and he promised to find me later.

Stunned.

I watched him go as Velvet demanded, "What happened?"

Numb.

I wanted to tell her everything, and I wanted to keep it all to myself.

Frozen,

inside a perfect point of light to focus on when everything fell dark.

As, of course, it must.


	47. Chapter 47

But I told her.

A. She wouldn't let me keep it secret and

B. I couldn't keep something as incredible as that all to myself.

Velvet was almost as excited as I was. "He kissed you? Oh. Blake! He's so cute!"

She even helped me hatch a plan to get out of the house on Friday. "He can pick you up there."

I hardly ever went to the White Fang dinners. Transportation was always an issue.

"Mom can drop you off. We'll tell her you have a ride home."

Who knew my beloved sister Velvet could be so devious?

And who knew if her plan would work?

It worked great!

You see, coed building functions were meant to relieve the stress thing, with hardly any supervision to assure that a human with a gun could march right in and shoot everyone. Political propaganda technique, and everyone was okay with that. Go figure.

"I'm glad you want to go," Mom said. "It's about time you discovered boys."

If only she knew! Should she know?

Part of me felt guilty that I hadn't confided.

The smarted part told me to keep my mouth clamped tight. "What about Dad?"

"Don't you worry about your father. Even he knows you have to grow up sometime."

Growing up was one thing.

Discovering boys yet another.

But lying about the basic "who, when, and where" was fundamentally wrong.

Did I have another choice?

"A nice young man is in the Creator's plans for you. Your father an I can't argue with that."

Now Mom spoke for the Creator. Did He define "nice young man" as a White Fang boy with radical behavior?

And would my parents argue when I told them I wanted more?

"And you're never going to find that young man sitting around the house every Friday night."

Valid point, one I wouldn't argue with, though I might have before.

I had my way out, my pass to Ren's party. What would happen after that, I had no clue.


	48. Chapter 48

_Journal Entry, _April 1

Went to a party at Ren's last night. Okay, more like a drink-smoke-and-make-out fest.

But, hey, I was with Sun, and for the first time in my life, people looked at me with respect.

Maybe even envy.

The White Fang dinner started at seven. Sun picked me up at eight.

By nine, he had convinced me to try a sip of his beer. "Seriously, try some of this."

I had considered the possibility all week. I'm probably already damned, for dating a nonbeliever.

What could a sip of beer hurt? I ended up having more than one sip.

Odd taste, not great, but drink enough, who cares?

Loose. I let loose. Not all the way loose, but I laughed at the not-real-funny jokes and let Sun pull me up into his lap.

And when he kissed me, I full-on kissed back.

I even let his hands wander.

At first I said no, of course.

I really thought I wasn't at all that kind of girl.

Guess what.

I am!

He was good, too. First he rubbed my back.

Then he lifted my hair and kissed my neck, and I've never had goose bumps like that before.

Then he slid his hands around the front of me, lifting my breasts and touching my nipples.

I wouldn't let him go under my blouse, but even over my clothes, the way he made my body feel is hard to describe.

Alive.

On edge.

In need.

In danger of spontaneous combustion.

Virtue was the last thing on my mind.

Then his watch beeped. Eleven.

Early to leave, but I wasn't allowed at that ball, anyway.

Sun took me home, and as we kissed a very long good-bye, I hoped everyone was asleep so I'd be immune to questions.

Everyone was, except Velvet.

She wanted every detail.

But how could I tell her all she wanted to know without admitting a crisis in faith?


	49. Chapter 49

I'd done it.

Lied my way out of the house.

Cheated certain punishment.

Stolen moments with Sun.

Invaded every waking thought.

Infiltrated every dream.

April passed like water, lost in a downriver flow.

Struggling to remain pure.

Surrendering ground to instinct.

Upsetting the scheme of things.

Forgetting more and more my feminine role.


	50. Chapter 50

I'd like to tell you.

I'd fallen head over heels in love with Sun.

I did feel something, but it wasn't the hearts and flowers kind of love in my books.

Looking back, it seems I should have been in love with him.

We did all the things two people in love were supposed to do.

Maybe more.

I wanted to be with him all the time, wanted the taste of his lips on mine.

His roaming fingers on my hungry skin.

His fire to thaw my ice.

But, though I was very much in lust with him, I knew from the start we were nothing like "forever."

Maybe because forever is such a scary place.


	51. Chapter 51

Love or Lust.

The need to be with Sun was intense.

Before school.

During school.

After school.

Instead of school.

Saturdays.

Friday evenings, when I could.

I suppose I got careless about who knew. And how much they knew.

Ren and Nora tolerated the tryst; sometimes we rode quads together.

Neptune and Weiss mostly ignored us, unless it was Sun's turn to score beer.

Becca and Emily pretended interest. Later, I found out why.

Ms. Rose winked and slipped me her personal copy of _Sappho's Leap._

Hand in hand with her new boyfriend, Cinder flashed smiles. Evil smiles.

I kept thinking once everyone got used to the idea, things would come easier.

But everything came harder.

White Fang meetings.

Sunday usual.

Too many questions, not enough answers.

Where did free will fit there?

Homeroom.

Classrooms.

Crowded hallways.

No place to hide to feed the growing hunger.

Sun's.

And mine.

Kitchen duty.

Diaper duty.

Daughterly duty.

Too many "had to"s, left not enough time for "want to"s.

Honesty.

Sobriety.

My virginity.

No way to regain the first two, I almost gave away the last.


	52. Chapter 52

One problem with alcohol is the more you drink it the more you want it.

If a little lets you forget a bit of your pain, more lets you crawl into a fuzzy space where nothing hurts at all.

Saturdays became drinking days, don't think the irony is one iota lost on me.

Sun would meet me in the desert, painkiller in hand.

First beer, then hard stuff.

The only thing I insisted on was no Johnnie WB.

Okay, it's a weird psychology but something inside of me maintained only Johnnie could hook me for good.

The higher I got, the harder it got to hang on to my jeans.

Sun was skillful, coloring his need to look like desire, like I was all he'd ever wanted.

But every time I came really close to just giving in, I managed to get my Dad's message across in my mind.

_I'll kill the first SOB who lays a hand on you._

He almost got his chance.


	53. Chapter 53

The first Saturday in May.

I'd gone for my usual "target practice," which by then, of course, meant an overheated session with Sun.

By noon, we had downed a half pint of tequila, my buttons were askew, and Sun was trying to escape his zipper when I noticed a lone figure striding our way.

The purposeful gait was familiar. "Sun, I think that's my dad."

We struggled to straighten our clothes.

Stashed the bottle.

Sun fished in his pocket for breath mints as I picked up the rifle, took aim at nothing and let go a round.

"Shootin' sand, little girl?"

My head spun from mescal and jumping up too quickly.

I felt my face drain from red to white. Sun's stayed red.

"Aren't you going to introduce us?"

"Sorry! Dad, this is my friend Sun. He was, uh, riding his quad and he heard me shooting. I've been giving him tips."

"Riding your quad and what else, boy?"

"Nothing, sir. Not a thing. It's good to meet you, Mr. Belladonna. Blakey has told me a lot about you."

"Did she tell you I named her Blake?"

Embarrassment branded my cheeks. "Please be civil, Dad."

Dad looked at me like I'd flat gone crazy.

"_Civil? _You're out here alone, doing Creator knows what . . . "

Could he smell the tequila?

Were my buttons crooked?

"We were just shooting targets . . . " I tried.

"I've heard all about the two of you. . . . "

I swear, as I watched, Dad's eyes grew black. Black.

No more denial. "Okay, we've been dating."

"Interesting word for what you've been doing. You're finished here. Let's go."

Dad pulled me away. I glanced back over my shoulder.

Sun shrugged, then started his quad.

"Damn good thing I didn't catch you in the act. You'd both be dead."


	54. Chapter 54

My friends were spies.

Okay, maybe not exactly spies, but Becca told her mom about Sun and me.

Her mom, a notorious gossip, spread the word at her bridge club.

Mrs. Hobart soaked up the news and came blabbing to my mom.

My mom, who knew I'd been seeing someone, was shocked he wasn't White Fang.

Mom asked the leader for advice. He said to tell Dad, then bring me in for counseling.

And that's why the next day at the meeting everyone made it a point to stare when I walked through the door.

I thought Dad's rant was bad.

I mean, he went on and on about "what boys want" and what should happen to boys if they manage to get what they want. (A very ugly-not to mention painful-picture.)

Then he took away my rifle and told me it would be a warm day in the Artic before I left the house again.

But Mr. Crandall, sitting smug behind his tall teak desk, made me want to scream.

After an hour of his reminding me of a woman's role, I couldn't stand it anymore.

So I interrupted, "Is it a woman's role to keep silent when her husband hits her?"

If I was looking for shock value, I was looking in the wrong place. "Violence is never right, But a man has a duty to keep his wife in check."

In check?

In check?!

Like Mom had ever asked to go anywhere or do anything other than wait on Dad and us kids?

He nailed me. "I hope you're not accusing your father of such things."

His tone made me waver. But I didn't quite buckle. "What if I am?"

He leveled me. "Then I'd call you a liar, with nothing to gain and everything to lose."


	55. Chapter 55

Censored

I went home, withdrew to my room, sulked all afternoon, stressed over what life would be like emptied of Sun.

Drained of laughter.

Strangled by rules I'd happily broken.

Depressed, I put my pillow over my head, forgetting tears were out of bounds and let myself cry.


	56. Chapter 56

_Journal Entry, May 7_

Life isn't fair.

I finally find someone special and they want to take him away from me.

Mom says I should have a boyfriend.

Why does he have to be White Fang material?

Dad says I shouldn't even think about boys.

Yeah, right.

What am I, brain-dead?

Mr. Crandall says one day I'll have to obey my husband.

No talk of love.

Can "love and obey" possibly go together?

All I know is, I'm old enough to make my own decisions.

They won't take Sun away from me. I won't let them.


	57. Chapter 57

Turned out, Sun gave me no other choice.

I saw him at school the next day, smiled and waved him over.

He half-waved back, turned and walked off with Neptune.

I ran to catch up with them. "Sun? Can I talk to you? What's the matter?"

He spun. "The matter is you and your crazy father."

"I don't think he acted so crazy." Even if he did, what did that have to do with me?

"Give us a minute, Neptune." Sun led me to a deserted corner.

I'd never had a boyfriend before, so I'd never been dumped before.

But I knew where this was headed.

"Blake, you know I care about you. But your dad made it very clear that I'd better leave you alone."

I shook my head. "I never heard anything like that, Sun." Tears dammed up behind my lashes.

"He came over to my house, Blake. He said if I ever 'bother' you again, he'd kill me. And I believe him."

The tears leaked out. Sun tried to hug me, but I pushed him away. "So that's it? Just good-bye?"

"Has to be. Anyway, it was bound to happen sooner or later. Sorry, Blake. See ya around."


	58. Chapter 58

Dismissed.

I'm quiet-tempered by nature, but anger boiled up inside me.

I didn't know who to be angrier with-Dad, or Sun.

What did he mean, "bound to happen"?

Was it something he'd planned all along?

Who else knew?

I'd never used a swear word before, but two or three popped into my mind and I chose the worst. "Fuck you!"

Sun just shook his head and kept on walking, and that only made me angrier yet. "I said, FUCK YOU!"

Everyone anywhere within shouting distance turned to stare at Blake Belladonna, gone completely nuts.

Sun turned the corner, slithered right out of my life.

And it was all my Dad's fault.

Wasn't it? . . .


	59. Chapter 59

I wasn't in love with Sun.

So why, all of a sudden, did I feel like I couldn't live without him?

Why did I feel like I'd just taken a cannonball to the gut?

Why did a sudden urge to hurt something become so overwhelming?

I picked up my backpack, weighty with books, did a 180 and let it fly.

In my wildest imagination, I could never have guessed the trajectory it would choose.

_Thunk! Tinkle . . . tinkle. _My backpack went straight through the library's picture perfect window.

Good thing no one was on the other side.

Ms. Rose came running.

She saw me, tears reflecting my disbelief.

Her own eyes held pure shock.

"I'm so sorry, Ms. Rose . . . " I blubbered. "I didn't mean . . . I mean . . . it just slipped . . . "

She told me she was sorry too, then escorted me to the office.

I'd never been to the office.

Except to turn in absence notes or take a phone call from home.

But never like this.

Never in shame.

And when Mr. Scoffield called my mom, she couldn't believe what he told her.

What she was hearing.

And when she passed on the news to my dad-that he would be buying a $500 window-he flipped.

Lost it completely.

For the first time ever,

he slapped me, hard, like he'd done to Mom

a thousand times.

Defiance rose up like vomit. I swung back and yelled, "Don't ever do that again!"

He caught my arm.

Held it midair, and I found in his eyes conflicting emotions-something almost like apology.

And something very much like satisfaction.


	60. Chapter 60

Communication was never big in my house.

We sat down together over dinner, but the only sound you'd hear was crunching and chewing and the little ones asking for more, please.

We lived, all boxed up in invisible containers.

We hardly knew the people we called sister or father.

Velvet and I were the exceptions to that rule.

But now even she and I were afraid to reach out to each other.

I couldn't blame her.

Associate with a pariah, you become an outcast too. Don't you?

Dad always lived angry.

Now he lived furious.

Mom settled for passive; she withdrew further into her shell.

The girls sensed the need for quiet play.

As for me, I barely said one word.

Not at home, not at school.

My little box grew smaller and smaller, until there was only one part of me inside.

The sad part.


	61. Chapter 61

A week went by.

The school year was drawing to a close.

Usually, I couldn't wait for summer vacation.

But what did I have to look forward to this year?

Velvet would be off to girls' camp, not a pleasant experience for me, but she was jazzed, which only made me more jealous that I'd be locked up at home.

Not even the desert to take refuge in, unless I could somehow convince Dad to loosen the reins.

No stallions near this mare's pasture.

Not anymore.

Every time I saw Sun at school, laughing with Neptune or Ren, while refusing to even acknowledge me, I got mad.

Royally pissed.

Then came the day I saw him with Cinder, arm possessively around her waist.

As I watched, she reached up and kissed him.

A flare went off inside my head.

I swear, my eyes were filmed over, red.

Mr. Crandall told me the devil was to blame for the things I did with Sun.

The devil had nothing to do with that, of course, but he may have had something to do with the utterly evil feelings that rose up inside me.

Seeking escape.


	62. Chapter 62

I followed Cinder and Sun from a safe distance, of course.

I waited until they split up.

Sun went into a classroom.

Cinder started twoard the gym.

I caught up to her, fell in beside her. "I thought you and Sun were history."

She stopped short. "No, _you _and Sun are history."

This is where I think the devil stepped in. "Leave him alone, Cinder."

She laughed. "No way, freak. Sun loves me."

Then I laughed. Or the devil did. "Sun only loves Sun. He never loved you."

"I suppose you think he loved _you? _He only used you to satisfy his lust."

Did he tell her that? Did he tell everyone that? "We never had sex."

"That's not what he said. Not only that, he said it was lousy sex."

I should have done what I did to Sun, not Cinder. But he wasn't standing there, she was.

What I did was . . .

I cocked back my fist, took dead aim, and punched her straight in the nose.

Her eyes went wild. "Fuckin' Faunus bitch! I'll kill you!"

She and Dad could team up.

I grabbed a fistful of coal-colored hair. "Oooh. I'm so scared."

Cinder raked my cheek with deadly fingernails and might have done me worse than a six-inch welt, except right about then her nose gushed.

I should have run for first aid, or at least felt bad.

Instead, I said, "Your nose is bleeding. Hey, think it's broken?"


	63. Chapter 63

It was just a hairline fracture.

But it was enough to get me suspended for the rest of the year.

And it was also enough to net a $1500 ER visit for sweet little Cinder, which, as you may have guessed, my dad had to pay for.

Well, actually, his homeowners' insurance had to pay it.

But, as he told me explicitly, "My premiums will go up now, so it's still money out of my pocket. Two thousand dollars in one week. What has happened to you, Blake? Boys and booze. (So he had smelled the tequila that day!) Broken windows, broken noses. . .

What kind of trouble have you become?"

For once, Mom blew it worse than Dad.

In fact, she lost it completely.

"I work and slave, to make your life perfect. How could you do this to me?'

Slave? Perfect?

I might have argued.

Instead I said, "I didn't do anything to you."

Her flace blossomed, rose red. "You have _stigmatized _this entire family!"

"Stigmatized? That's the biggest word I've ever heard you attempt, Mother."

Her eyes flooded. "I'm not stupid. I graduated high school, considered college."

"Then along came Dad. True love won you over. Please, don't make me gag."

"Blake! How can you be so nasty? Of course true love won me over."

I shook my head. "Sorry, Mom, but if there's one thing I've learned, watching you and Dad . . . "

"Yes? What have you learned?"

"Love is just another word for sex."


	64. Chapter 64

She screamed.

(This is the part where she lost it.)

"Sex? Sex?! Tell me what you know about sex! Did that awful boy touch you? Put it in you?"

Oh, I could not resist that lead-in. "Put what in me?"

"You know very well what I'm talking about. Did he take his pants off? Did you let him?"

Now it was a game. "Let him? What if I encouraged him?"

"Blake Belladonna! What exactly are you saying? Surely you can't mean you wanted to have sex?"

A vicious game. "Don't you want to have sex, Mom?"

Her face ignited flames. "Wha . . . what . . . "

"Or is it all about overpopulating this pitiful planet?"

She sputtered. She fumed. She fizzled out.

"'Cause if that's what it's all about, you can count me out."


	65. Chapter 65

If I'd have known then.

What I have learned a few days later, I might have made her squirm a little less.

Then again, maybe not.

My head constricted, squashed in a vise of frustration, ready to pop like a blister.

All the questions I'd always wanted to ask jumbled around in my brain, twisted into barbs.

"Don't worry, Mom. I know sex leads to babies. You and Dad have taught me that valuable lesson."

I could have stopped there.

Might have stopped, had I noticed how her face had turned ashen.

Instead, I steamrolled her.

"You're like a blue-ribbon heifer, Mom. Champion breeding stock, always in heat for her bull."

And almost regretted it when she ran over to the kitchen sink and heaved her lunch.

And truly regretted it when she turned, shaky and pale, flecks of vomit in her hair, and said, "I need to lie down for a while."


	66. Chapter 66

Later, Mr. Crandall dropped by.

The house to give me a stern reprimand. He sat across the cluttered table, playing with a paper clip.

"Your parents are worried about you, Blake."

I was worried about myself. "But I wasn't about to let him know it. "Really?"

"Really. What have you got to say for yourself? You've always been such a good girl."

Good girl.

Sit.

Stay.

Fetch.

Bristles rose up along my spine. "Define good."

"I don't appreciate your attitude, Blake. Fast and pray. Search your soul for the inequities in your life."

"Any inequity in my life began when I was born female. Can _you _fix that?"

"You'll have to fix that yourself, by concentrating on the things the Creator expects of you."

His two-faced rhetoric was pissing me off. "You mean like kissing your ass?"

He slammed his hand on the table. "I will not listen to that sort of language. Apologize!"

Behind me, I heard Mom gasp.

But I was on a roll. "I'm sorry, Mr. Crandall."

I looked dead into his eyes. "I'm sorry I ever believed you might have something worthwhile to say."


	67. Chapter 67

_Journal Entry, May 18_

I kind of blew it.

Again.

Told Mr. Crandall to put his advice where his toilet paper sticks.

Bad move.

I knew it when I said it, but oh well.

I just don't care anymore.

About anything.

Mom actually cried and sent me to my room. I left the door open so I could hear.

Mr. Crandall said I should be punished.

Severely.

"My children get the belt," he hinted.

I don't know what kind of bomb Mom and Dad will drop, or when they'll drop it.

But I do know if Dad comes at me with a belt,

I'm gone.

For good.

That is, if there's anything left of me.


	68. Chapter 68

Dad dropped the bomb five days later.

Three bombs, actually.

Being so self-absorbed for so many weeks, I guess I never noticed the too familiar signs.

Mom had been tired lately. Throwing up a lot.

"Your mother is pregnant. Ultrasound says it's a boy."

_Boom! Boom! _A baby.

And a son.

Finally, a son.

"Too much stress could hurt your mother or Samuel."

They'd already picked a name?

Too much stress, meaning me?

"We've decided to send you away for the summer."

_Ka-boom! _

Away? Where could they send me?

"You'll be staying out on your Aunt Raven's ranch."

Aunt Raven? The sister he'd barely spoken to in over thirty years?

"No trouble out there but snakes and empty mine shafts."

"I thought you couldn't stand Aunt Raven."

"She and I don't see eye to eye on every little thing . . . "

Why then? While exile me to the wilds?

"But your mother and I want you out of here, and Raven was the only one who would take you."


	69. Chapter 69

I didn't want to go.

But they played the guilt card, which gave me no choice.

I did feel guilty about lying to get my way.

Guilty about almost giving my virginity away to someone who didn't deserve it.

Guiltier about broken windows, broken noses.

And should I somehow make Mom lose her baby, I would forever lose every inch of self-respect.

Lose every ounce of my newfound belief that I wasn't born to be a loser.

So I agreed to a road trip across the kingdom, with my dad at the wheel.

Crossing into the Vacuo kingdom, the road stretched long and longer toward yesterday.

Sculpted in distant granite hills and splintered ghost town boardwalks.

The car's tires whined along the asphalt, the stray gray thread in the khaki weave-sage and hardpan, cheatgrass and bitterbrush.

Mirage puddles emptied, one into the next, and I wanted to dissolve, pour myself on the pavement and ride along/

Somewhere.

Anywhere but where I was going.

Across salt flats, we picked up speed, past giant knolls of shifting sand and travel-trailer tenements, where rusting semis inhabited.

I wanted Dad to slow down, so I might catch a glimpse of what might live there, where civilization ended and my new life was about to begin.

Beneath a sag of barbed wire was a stiff bluetick hound.

A ratty black Lab mourned him from far enough to weather flies, but close enough to chase away bone pickers, flying lazy eights in the blue desert sky, searching for the carcass du jour.

Did anyone miss those dogs?

Would anyone miss me? . . .

So I ventured.

"Will you miss me, Dad?"

Now, you have to remember that my dad and I hardly shared fifty words in any given day.

I'd just used up on tenth of my allotment.

"Miss you? I don't even know you, Blake."

His admission stung.

Enough to stick a big ol' lump in my throat.

Enough to give me the courage to ask, around the lump, "Whose fault is that?"

His hands tensed on the wheel and I could see the little veins at his temples swell and pump faster.

Too much to think about?

"Enough blame to go around, I guess."

He wanted to let it drop.

It wasn't about to give him his way.

He could blame me for many things.

But not for the closeness we'd lost.


	70. Chapter 70

So I argued.

"No way, Dad. I'm not taking the blame here. Yes, I've done some things lately I'm not exactly proud of. But the distance between us? Don't you dare point your finger at me."

"You work, eat dinner, watch TV. Sometimes you'll play with the little ones, but you never talk to me. All I've ever wanted is your respect. But you don't even know I exist."

There! A quality dialogue.

Only it was mostly a monologue.

Dad mulled it over, nodded once or twice at the conversation going on inside his head.

Then he said, "Respect is a two-way street. Do you respect me? My house? My rules?"

I loved Dad, despite everything, wanted more than anything for him to love me back.

I respected him one, but what about now?

"How can I respect a house where women are no more than servants? How can I respect rules laid down by a phantom father? How can I respect a man who . . . "

I didn't dare say it, did I?

"Who _what?" _

"Who spends all day . . . "

"Go ahead."

"Who h . . . "

"Spit it out."

"Oh, never mind."

End of conversation.


	71. Chapter 71

Halfway across the wide kingdom of Vacuo, the country changed from sage flats to pinon- and juniper-covered mountains.

Some two hundred north-south ranges dissect this arid land, making Vacuo the most mountainous kingdom.

One after one, they rose and fell, and as I watched, the horizon seemed to breathe.

It was eerie.

And beautiful. A perfect backdrop for silence.

We stopped for lunch in a small town.

It wasn't very different than in the cowboy days, except fast food, faster cars, and espresso bars.

Dad had grown up on a ranch, some fifteen miles south of town.

"Do you even miss it?" I asked.

Around bites of his burger, he admitted, "I miss the quiet. I miss seeing from here to forever. I miss how people mind their own business, but still can be counted on."

That was the closest to human I'd seen Dad in a real long time.

A bolt of pain seared my heart.

Why couldn't I know my dad as this almost vulnerable man?

Was this the person Mom fell for?

We turned south of the town, drove parallel to the most gorgeous mountain range east of it.

I pictured Dad, as a boy, bouncing along in a pickup on his way to school.

Grandma Jane had to drive him into town. Grandpa Paul couldn't work a clutch with only one leg.

I remembered these stories from that distant time when Dad still spoke.

He didn't speak much on the two-hour drive to our destination.

I wondered if he was lost in some childhood reverie, or had simply closed up again, like an oyster around its pearl.


	72. Chapter 72

We hit Caliente around four.

As towns went, it wasn't much.

A trailer park, a couple of motels, a restaurant or two, a tavern, and a hardware store, which carried shoes and a few stitches of clothing.

Smallish houses sat in neat little rows, defending a little park, two churches, and the White Fang meeting house-the fanciest building in town.

On the outskirts was a roping arena.

Dad made me sit in the car while he ran into a little market.

He bought flowers for Aunt Raven, a soda for me and, I'm pretty sure, a bottle of Johnnie WB for himself.

As I waited, a cargo train rolled by.

The tracks in Caliente are a major thoroughfare for freight trains, moving goods north to south and, of course, back again.

The windows rattled till I thought they just might shatter.

I considered catch a lapful of glass, as a shiny blue pickup parked in the adjoining space.

A guy climbed out, and he was to die for.

Who knew they made them so killer cute, out there in the sticks?

He noticed me noticing him and flashed a smile that could melt lead.

He strutted toward the store, turned at the door, and gave me another solid once-over.

It was my first hint that life out there in Nowhereville might not be so bad after all.


	73. Chapter 73

Aunt Raven lived several miles out of town, way back up a wide ravine.

We paralleled the train tracks past lush pastureland, verdant meadows, shady ranches, and the most awesome rock formations I'd ever seen.

The further we drove, the more I fell in love with rural Vacuo's raw beauty.

No neon.

No walls.

No traffic.

No row after row of identical cracker-box houses.

This wasn't punishment.

It was freedom.

I'm not sure why I knew that then.

Call it intuition.

Whatever it was, my mind swayed from fear and uncertainty.

My heart veered from hurt and bitterness toward the unlikely idea that away from home, my future might blossom with hope.


	74. Chapter 74

Aunt Raven's ranch was 160 water-fed acres.

Lush and untamed.

We pulled into her cottonwood-shaded driveway.

A mule brayed and two tricolored dogs came to greet us, tail stumps wagging. I freaked out as they jumped around me, of course. But my Dad's glare made me suck it up and shut up, despite trying to avoid the dogs.

Strangers demanded investigation.

Even the geese had to check us out.

A nasty gander approached, hissing.

Aunt Raven appeared suddenly. "Get out of here, Grady Goose!"

The gander scrambled out of sight, protesting loudly the entire way.

Aunt Raven gave me a once-over. "Wow, girl, you have grown."

We'd last seen each other six Christmases ago, at Grandpa Paul's.

"It's about time you came for a visit. This place can get pretty lonely."

No doubt, with no company but animals.

"How have you been, Aunt Raven?"

"Call me Raven. Keep saying 'Aunt Raven,' we'll be here all day."

I smiled. "Okay, then, Raven."

Dad grunted something like hello.

"Welcome, James. Let's all go inside. Supper will be ready before you know it."

"I really can't stay," Dad tried to say. "Glynda is expecting me."

"Too late to start back now. Call your wife, tell her you'll be home tomorrow."

A woman who took no crap from Dad?

She and I would get along just fine.


	75. Chapter 75

We followed her inside.

Dad carried my single suitcase, stuffed to the brim with homemade clothes.

I carried my backpack, stuffed to the brim with begged and borrowed books.

Aunt Raven kept a clipped, measured pace. I watched the hitch of her hips, the swish of her long, jet-black hair.

She was very beautiful. She had married once, but I'd never heard details, only that her husband died.

The outside of the long, low house wore a fresh coat of white, with a pale blue colonnade and shutters to add a bit of color to the tidy porch.

Inside, a simple antique furniture graced with polished hardwood floors. Wreaths and quilts and afghans brightened every room.

I saw no photographs at all.

One wall of the living room housed a gun cabinet, filled with deadly treasures.

Aunt Raven is so cool!

At dinner Dad was outnumbered gender-wise, and hurting for a snort.

It was easy to see Raven made him uncomfortable but I had no clear idea why.

I only knew some past upset had kept them from speaking for a good long while.

Insane, I thought, not talking to your sibling for decades.

So, crazy me, I asked, "Are you two still mad at each other?"

Incensed, Dad answered, "Who said we were mad at each other?"

Incredulous, Raven contradicted, "It's best to let the water pass under the bridge and keep trickling downstream."


	76. Chapter 76

_Journal Entry, May 27_

I'm supposed to be asleep, but Dad and Aunt Raven are talking, and I'm eavesdropping big time.

Dad's slurring, so he must have stepped outside for a good dose of Johnnie.

Wonder what Aunt Raven thinks about his un-religious breath.

He keeps telling her not to cut me slack and she keeps telling him it's her place, she'll do as she pleases, and he can just take me on home if that's how he feels.

Funny, but I don't think I want to go home.

Unlike yesterday.

I don't know what life here will be like, but Dad made it clear life back home would be hell, and I sure believe that.

He won't even miss me.

I doubt anyone will miss me.

Except maybe Velvet, when she gets back from camp.

The creepy thing is, I won't miss them, either.

How can you go through sixteen years with your family and not miss them when you leave?

What's wrong with my family?

What's wrong with me?


	77. Chapter 77

Dad motored off very early next morning.

I was sleeping quietly.

He didn't even bother with good-byes, which only hurt a little.

Aunt Raven let me sleep in.

I woke all alone in a strange room with chintz curtains and dried flower wreaths on bright turquoise walls.

The only sound was the _tick-tick _of an iris-shaped clock and, somewhere outside, Aunt Raven's pleasant song as she puttered around the yard.

I didn't move for several minutes, just lay there, contemplating.

What was expected of me here?

No one had mentioned a thing.

White Fang meetings were obviously not high on the list.

At home, I'd be sweating and suffering Mr. Crandall's evil stare.

No diapers here.

No kids to tend.

Dishes for two were nothing.

Was I supposed to plant a garden?

Feed the livestock?

Have the dogs scare the ever living eff out of me?

I got up and went to the window.

Outside, a small breeze toyed with a wind chime and ruffled Aunt Raven's small patch of grass.

I remembered Dad's words: _No trouble there but rattlesnakes and deserted mine shafts._

I was beginning to believe it.


	78. Chapter 78

The first week or so Aunt Raven and I sort of poked at each other, testing the water as they say.

She talked about life out here.

I talked about life in the suburbs.

She talked about solitary living.

I talked about overcrowding.

She talked about the joy-and pain- of physical labor.

I talked about diapers and dishpan hands.

She talked about dogs, cats, horses, and mules.

I talked about jackrabbits and pesky little sisters.

She talked about hot summers and hard winters.

I talked about school-up until the last few months.

Which finally led her to ask, "Do you want to talk about why you're here?"

I did-and I didn't

I liked Aunt Raven-her soft spoken way, her honesty.

But I didn't feel secure with her yet.

How far could I trust her?

How much did she know?

How much did she want to know?

So I probed, "Why do you think I'm here? What did Dad tell you?"

She sat quietly for a minute. "He said there was trouble at school, trouble with a boy . . . "

I nodded. "A little trouble with both, okay? Is that all?"

She looked me in the eye. "He said your leader has decided you're possessed by the devil himself."

I giggled. "Because I want a normal life and someone to love?"

"Is breaking someone's nose normal, Blake? Do you think that boy loved you?"

Okay. Valid questions. "No, he didn't love me and that made me . . . "

"Angry? Enough to make you lose your temper and hit someone else in the face?"

"Hurt. Enough to want to make someone else hurt too. I'm so sorry."

"If you know why it happened, and you're truly sorry, I doubt you're possessed."

"I'm not possessed, Raven, and I'm glad you don't think so either."

"The devil has bigger fish to fry, mostly the politicians of Vacuo. Now how about dinner?"


	79. Chapter 79

Next day, I found out Aunt Raven had no expectations regarding my doing chores.

"You're a guest. Of course, if you want to pitch in, I'm not gonna refuse."

What else did I have to do? Besides read, that is.

"There's a big patch of weeds that need to be pulled. And you can toss chicken scratch."

Pulling and tossing. No problem.

Mindless labor, easily done.

"I do have a big project on wait for some time in the next week or two."

Big project? Like digging a pond or raising a barn?

"I have to move a hundred head of cattle. Have you ever ridden a horse before?"

I did a pony ride once. In a little circle.

"Old Poncho doesn't ask for much. All you have to do is stay in the saddle."

I figured I could manage that.

How hard could it be?

Aunt Raven figured I'd better practice a little.

Old Poncho stood like a champ while she tossed the saddle over his slightly swayed back.

"See, you reach under his belly, grab the cinch, put it through this ring, and pull tight."

Poncho gave a little _oomph, _but didn't really complain.

I stroked his nose, watched his whiskers twitch.

"Now put your left foot into the left stirrup and pull yourself right on up there."

Except for a tense second or two as my pants stretched quite tightly at the rear, I climbed on with relative ease.

"Squeeze with your knees, keep your heels dropped, hands gently on the reins."

Knees, heels, and hands in approximate position, I clucked my tongue to make him go.

Poncho was deaf?

"He's not deaf, only stubborn. Give him a little nudge with your heels."

That worked and walking was easy, like straddling a well-worn rocking chair, _plod-ka-plod-ka-plod. _

"That's it. Pull the reins right to turn that way. Pull them left to go left."

Poncho performed as requested and I felt just like a cowgirl. Until he started to trot.

"You're gonna get whiplash if you keep bouncing like that. Squeeze those knees harder."

I tried, but nothing I did could keep my butt in the saddle.

Poncho responded by trotting faster. _Plop-plop-plop-plop-plop._

Aunt Raven dissolved into deviant laughter. "Make him stop."

"Whoa!" I hollered, much to Poncho's amusement.

I pulled back on the reins. Too much slack.

"Tighten your grip and yank hard!" Aunt Raven shouted.

I yanked. Poncho stopped.

The final bounce planted my behind in the saddle, bruising my bruises.

"Looks like you'll have to work on that trot!" Aunt Raven laughed hard.


	80. Chapter 80

_Journal Entry, June 6_

I rode a horse today!

I've never been sorer in my whole entire life!

I think my butt is majorly black and blue. (I can't really see it in the mirror.)

So why am I so proud of myself?

Aunt Raven said she's proud of me too, even if my trot does need a little work.

She's proud of me!

I can't believe she and Dad are related.

We're going to move her cattle from low pasture to high meadow.

Some ranchers use ATV's or even helicopters to move their cattle.

Aunt Raven uses horses and dogs.

Just like in the movies.

I wonder if movie cowboys ever got sore butts.

I wonder if horseback riding can give me a shapely butt.

I wonder if I'll ever learn to ride a horse.

I wonder how Mom is feeling.

I wonder if Velvet liked camp.

I wonder if Georgia has stopped sucking her thumb.

I wonder if Sun and Cinder are still together. (I wonder if Cinder is pregnant yet.)

I wonder if Dad misses me at all.


	81. Chapter 81

The next morning, I came downstairs to the aroma of coffee.

Really strong coffee. It smelled delicious.

Aunt Raven sipped a cup, offered one to me.

I shook my head. "No thanks."

It was a sin.

Considering my recent behavior, I wasn't sure why coffee worried me.

It was tempting.

Aunt Raven said it was up to me, but far as she knew, the Creator couldn't care less.

It made my mouth water.

Was it the smell? The idea of giving in to temptation? I hadn't a clue.

It was wrong, and I knew it.

Whatever it was, I crumbled like biscotti, in need of black coffee.

It demanded I try it.

A small sip wrinkled my nose. A big gulp went down like water.

It was bitter.

Aunt Raven offered sugar and cream, but I wanted the truth of coffee.

It was the best thing I'd ever tasted.

What had happened to me?

Beer. Tequila. Coffee.

Heavy petting, which, I had to admit, I enjoyed.

What was next? Excommunication?

What if it was? Could I deal with that? Could my family?

Would they all be considered outcasts?

Would they hate me if they were? Dumb question, right?

So, okay, if they disowned me, like Dad had disowned Jaune, would I get over it, create a solid existence without them?

Would I find a way to forgive myself, even love myself, or would I react like Summer-Dad's previous wife-and end the pain completely?


	82. Chapter 82

After breakfast I asked Aunt Raven if I could borrow a rifle for a little target practice.

"Sure. Why not? They're just collecting dust in that cabinet."

Collecting dust? "Why? You must like to shoot."

"I do hunt deer once a year. I don't especially enjoy it though."

So much for the badass idea. "Why do you have so many guns?"

"My husband collected them, more for show than use. Extravagant, really."

But they were beautiful. "What do you mean?"

"A person only needs three guns-a good hunting rifle . . . "

For filling the freezer with deer once a year . . .

"a handgun for protection, and a shotgun-for the rodents."

I had no urge to mess with shotguns. A big one could take your arm off.

"You're welcome to borrow whatever. Take the pickup truck and have fun with it."

Was she crazy? "Uh, thanks, Raven, but I don't know how to drive."

"What? You're turning seventeen years old and you still don't know how to drive?"

"Dad said if my husband wants me to know how, he'll have to teach me."

The look on her face was priceless. I'd definitely hit some kind of nerve. Aunt Raven gave me a nudge toward the door.

"Let's go."

An old pickup loitered in the scattered shade of the driveway.

"Get in. I'll teach ya."

I glanced at the classic truck, with bug-eyed headlights above a big grill and not a dung under the primer.

"Don't worry. You can't hurt her."

I doubted that. But the freedom Aunt Raven had offered me was a powerful temptation.

"Get in. We'll be fine."

I slid under the steering wheel, hands shaky as jelly. Had no idea what to do next.

"Put the key in the ignition."

In it went, like it wanted to be there. One turn and the motor sputtered to life.

"Right pedal, go. Left pedal, stop."

I punched the right pedal. The engine revved and roared a protest.

Aunt Raven grinned. "First you have to put it in gear."

Duh! The gearshift. How many times had I watched someone use it?

"Right now she's in Park."

Oh yeah, P for park, R for reverse . . . "So what does _D_ stand for?"

"Drive."

And before I knew it, I was.


	83. Chapter 83

**A/N: Well shippers, this is what you've been waiting for. Hope your patience didn't waver. Yang is a male in this story, apologies to the Yuri fanatics.  
**

**\- Silas Dane**

* * *

We started down a wide dirt track that paralleled the fence line, that paralleled the main road in from town.

Steering came easy enough. Turn the wheel, not too hard, and go the direction you turned it.

The gas pedal wasn't a mystery either. Push harder, go faster. Let up on it, slow down.

The brakes took a bit of getting used to. Push the pedal easy, slow gently. Stomp? Don't!

After a couple of steering over-corrections and a herky-jerky start or two, I began to get the hang of it.

I was bumping along, thoroughly engrossed in driving a straight line, when Aunt Raven interrupted.

"Stop a sec."

Another pickup, a blue one, had pulled onto the shoulder on the far side of the fence.

I pressed the brakes to pull the truck to a quick stop, as the driver of the other truck stood up from changing his flat.

"Morning, Ms. Branwen."

Oh my god! It was _him! _From the store! That killer cute guy knew Aunt Raven?!

Apparently, she knew him, too. "Hello, Yang. Everything okay?"

"It is now," he said, flashing that familiar smile. "Next time, back to Firestones. These Michelins can't take a finishing nail."

Aunt Raven chuckled, then gestured in my direction. "I'd like you to meet my niece Blake. She's visiting me for the summer."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Blake." His eyes, filled with assessment, drew level with mine. "Pretty name."

I nodded, afraid my voice might stick to my tongue.

Aunt Raven saved me major embarrassment. "How's your father coping?"

Yang's smile dried up like a summer mud puddle. "He's okay. I guess. But she left a pretty big hole."

"I know she did, Yang," soothed Aunt Raven. "Let me know if you need anything at all, and give your dad my best."


	84. Chapter 84

We drove off in opposite directions.

Yang's big truck cruised smoothly south on the asphalt, while Aunt Raven's truck stuttered north in the dirt, with me, Blake (pretty name!), behind the wheel.

Aunt Raven stared out the window, mired in some daydream. Where her mind wandered, I couldn't say.

Anyway, my own mind was glued on Yang.

How did he and Aunt Raven know each other?

Who was the woman whose memory snatched away his incredible smile?

Could someone like me give it back?

Aunt Raven knew most of those answers, of course. But I sensed she wasn't in the mood to discuss them.

And I wasn't quite ready to admit my budding infatuation.

I found a big, wide turnaround place, did an about-face, and put the truck back towards the ranch house, still stuck on Yang and how I might get to know him.

Turned out it wasn't hard at all.


	85. Chapter 85

_Journal Entry, June 7_

Yesterday I thought riding a horse was an accomplishment. Today I learned how to drive.

I think I did pretty good, too. At least, I didn't run into anything or blow up Aunt Raven's pickup.

It wasn't exactly legal, I know.

But Aunt Raven said it was her property, and no law was going to stop her from doing as she pleased.

And besides, some laws were meant to be broken-laws made for no reason but to keep good people in check,

She said the government was like an impatient cowboy-quick to hobble a spirited horse until it wasn't food for anything but food.

I also met Yang today.

He is by far the most beautiful man I've ever seen.

Aunt Raven said he's a college sophomore, which must mean he goes to college.

I wonder where.

No "institutes of higher learning" out here in the rural country, I'll bet.

I wonder why I'm wondering about him at all.

He's so out of my league.

Ah, who cares?

At least he's giving me something to think about besides the mess I left behind at home.

I've been here eleven days, and they haven't called once to check up on me, or even just to say hi.

Won't Dad croak when he finds out Aunt Raven taught me to drive? He'll have to lock up his keys.

If he ever lets me come home.


	86. Chapter 86

On Saturday after breakfast and chores, Aunt Raven said she needed to run into Panaca to pick up supplies from the feed store.

She tossed me the keys. "You drive. Practice makes perfect."

It was my first time on an honest-to-goodness road.

Aunt Raven played with the radio, looking for country tunes.

She barely even flinched the time or two I miscalculated, spinning the tires up the dirt shoulder, then back to asphalt.

The second tie, I said, "Okay, that had to scare you."

She quit fiddling with knobs and looked over. "I've made it through some awful things, Blake. Nothing can scare me. Not anymore."

She opened the window wide, inviting the wind.

I'd connected with Aunt Raven in a special way, yet how little I knew about her. She had trusted me with her truck. Would she trust me enough to confide secrets?

"What awful things, Raven? Tell me, please."

I didn't dare take my eyes off the road, but I felt her withdrawal into that distant place deep inside.

We bumped along for several silent minutes, as she settled into the indefinable space where she needed to be.

And if we hadn't crossed the railroad tracks, signaling the highway's imminent approach, she might have broken down and told me everything at that moment.

Instead she said, "I'd better drive from here."

I pulled over, remembered to push the gearshift into _P _for park. Aunt Raven came around and took the wheel, and as I scooted my black-and-blue butt across the seat, I vowed to discover her secrets, however dark they might be.


	87. Chapter 87

At the feed store, I followed Aunt Raven inside, letting my eyes adjust to filtered light and my nose admire the potpurri.

Leather.

Grain.

Alfalfa.

Aunt Raven disappeared out back while I wandered over to a far wall, drawn by a riot of sound.

Cheeps.

Scuffs.

Hisses.

Yellow fluffs under warming lamps, sifting through scratch and testing stumpy wings.

Chicks.

Ducklings.

Goslings.

Finally, I heard Aunt Raven. I turned to see her talking to a guy with a vaguely familiar voice.

Tall.

Built.

Gorgeous.

Gorgeous? Yang! And I hadn't even brushed my hair! I hurried outside, hoping he wouldn't see me.

Ha.

Ha.

Ha.


	88. Chapter 88

He trailed Aunt Raven to the pickup, carrying a fifty-pound sack of cracked corn like burlap-wrapped feathers, tossed it in the truck bed, went back for another.

I dropped my face, so he wouldn't notice its ordinariness as he passed the window.

I'm pretty sure he glanced my way once or twice, walking by.

Striding by, with long, lean legs, hugged tight by Wranglers.

I pretended not to watch, but the corner of my eye caught every little detail.

The way he moved.

How his muscles flexed.

Facial structure.

The vivid light purple of his eyes beneath a long wave of hair, light golden.

Neptune and Sun could eat their hearts out-if Weiss and Cinder didn't beat them to it.

Three sacks of grain and a bag of dog food later, he thanked Aunt Raven and started off.

At the door he turned, and I just about died when he flashed me his should-be-famous smile and mouthed, _See you soon._

See me soon?

What did he mean by that?

Did I care?

Considering recent events, I shouldn't care.

I was going to stay innocent.

Men were evil.

I was going to die celibate.

Men were trouble.

I would not date again.

Men lied.

I would not marry, ever.

Men cheated.

No man would own me.

So why, despite all of the above,

was I,

so suddenly and completely

fascinated with _this _man?


	89. Chapter 89

Aunt Raven knew, too.

"He's cute, huh?"

Cute did not define him. "I guess. Who is he, anyway?"

"Yang is the son of an old friend."

Ah. Things were getting clearer. But . . . "His mom or his dad?"

"Both, but mostly his dad."

We were almost on a roll. "So, um . . . he lives around here?"

"Just outside of Caliente."

We lived just outside of Caliente. "Near the ranch?"

"Right down the road. Why?"

Why, indeed? "No special reason except he said he'd see me soon."

"He will. He's helping us move the cattle."

Oh brother. I felt like a total dolt. "Oh, okay."

"I figured someone with experience couldn't hurt."

Someone without a bruised butt, she meant. "Probably not."

"Especially someone cute." Aunt Raven sent chills down my spine with her deviant smirk.

Was she playing matchmaker?

I smiled. "When's he coming?"

"Next Sunday. It's his day off."

Next Sunday? Eight whole days away? "Not tomorrow?"

"He and his dad have plans."

I decided to fish a little. "Don't you ever go to White Fang meetings?"

"Not anymore. You're free to go."

Free not to go was more accurate. "But you're part of the White Fang, aren't you?"

"Was once. Gave up on it, though." Was it because she's human?

The ice had been broken-chipped, anyway. "How come?"

"Long story, one you maybe shouldn't hear."

One I had to hear, now. "I want to know, Aunt Raven. Need to know."

"Maybe after supper. I have to unload the feed."


	90. Chapter 90

It seemed like forever, but after dinner, we settled into chairs on the porch.

The dogs parked at our feet, and cats rubbed up into our laps as Aunt Raven spilled her tale.

"You might think I've never been in love, but you'd be wrong. I was seventeen, Taiyang was eighteen. And he wasn't White Fang. I was so much like you, Blake. Full of life, full of hope. And I desperately in love with a man neither my family nor my church would accept."

Intergenerational deja vu?

My stomach churned.

"I kept right on seeing him anyway. We planned to marry, just as soon as I graduated high school. He even wanted me to go to college. Said any girl as smart as I was should have a calling other than kids. We were only kids ourselves, of course, and like most kids that age, our love moved way beyond kissing."

No wonder she'd hesitated to come clean.

"Ely was-and still is-a very small town. Word got around till it reached your grandfather. He forbade me to see Taiyang, but love was more powerful than fear. I was just five months shy of my eighteenth birthday when your father caught Taiyang and me parked near Burnside Lake. James pointed a .45 right between Taiyang's eyes and ordered us to get out of the car."

The picture rolled clearly into view.

"He made us both kneel in the dirt. The pistol swung my way. 'Father sent a message,' he said. 'You are not to see this man again, or both of you will die.' I started to cry and Taiyang reached for me. 'Don't touch her or I swear I'll shoot you dead.' James was home after his first tour in the rebel wars. He'd done plenty of killing. We had no reason to doubt he'd do more."

I didn't doubt it either. "What did you do?"

"I begged James to leave us alone. Asked how he'd feel if Father demanded he leave Summer. He laughed and told me to get in his car. When I refused, he put the gun barrel against my cheek, pulled it gently toward my temple. 'I'll use this,' he said. 'One more would mean nothing.' A crazy fire flickered in his eyes. I believed, then as now, he could have killed me as easily as he slaughtered innocent people in the war."

And have yet another ghost to haunt him.

"I stood and started for his car, afraid for my life, for Taiyang's life. I heard James tell him, 'If you ever so much as glance at my sister again, I will hunt you down like a dirty coyote.' Then he brought that .45 hard against Taiyang's jaw. Cracked it wide open, but that wasn't enough. James beat that man till I thought a bullet would've been kinder. So now you know why James and I didn't speak for so many years."

One piece of the puzzle. "But what about the White Fang?"

"James almost put Taiyang in his grave. But when Taiyang tried to press charges, Sheriff Steele claimed there wasn't enough evidence. See, he was also our leader at the time. White Fang law before any other, you know that. I suffered his 'court of love,' admitting as few dirty details as they'd allow. When I turned eighteen, I did go off to college. And I never sat through another Sunday from hell. Taiyang moved away. I kept hoping he'd write. He never did."


	91. Chapter 91

I was stunned.

I mean, I knew my dad could be cruel, but this went way beyond anything I'd ever witnessed.

After a few shocked moments, I got up, went over and put my arms around Aunt Raven's neck. "I'm sorry."

She tensed, as if she'd never been hugged before. Then her shoulders sagged. "It was a long time ago."

I came around and sat at her feet. So much sadness in her eyes!

Why hadn't I noticed it before?

"Did you ever see Taiyang again?"

She nodded. "But by then it was too late. I'd already married."

"But you did fall in love again, didn't you? With him? You had to fall in love to get married. Didn't you?"

Aunt Raven stared toward the hills, crimson in sunset. "Real love finds you once, if you're lucky."

"But what about . . . " I started to say. There was so much more I wanted to know.

"Some people never find love at all, Blake. Count yourself blessed if it ever happens to you."

We went inside to our separate rooms, where the walls formed boxes around us.

And I wondered what Aunt Raven was doing, alone in her own private cubicle.

Was she crying over Taiyang? Cursing Dad?

Had she tucked it all back away into that terrible space where nightmares are born?

Closed in by plaster, question after question infiltrated my aching head.

What about her husband? Hadn't Aunt Raven loved him at least a little?

How could a sheriff swear to uphold the law when his allegiance lay elsewhere?

How could Grandpa Paul send Dad on an armed mission?

Would Dad really have pulled that trigger, killed his sister and Taiyang, just because they were in love?

The obvious answer kept me awake half the night.


	92. Chapter 92

_Journal Entry, June 10_

I learned some terrible things today.

All about Aunt Raven and her "true love," Taiyang.

It seems my _wonderful_ father drove them apart. With a gun.

Maybe that shouldn't surprise me. But it does.

How many more miserable things has Dad done, things I'll never know about and don't really want to?

How far does he dare judge me?

I want Aunt Raven not to be lonely.

I want her to find another love, but she says we only get on real love, and only if we're lucky.

Will I be lucky?

If I am, will someone drive him away?

Someone like Dad?

Someone

like

me?


	93. Chapter 93

I thought about Yang a lot over the next few days.

Weird, I know, that someone you've never met could thaw the ice damming inside, warm you like a summer morning, even though he's not yours to hold.

I thought of Aunt Raven, the love of her life dissolved into dreams.

Did she hurt every day? Or had she locked away all her memories of him, condemned them to that muddle well only drawn from in times of strangling loneliness?

Would I find forever love?

Did I really want to, when forever was a word without meaning?


	94. Chapter 94

Tuesday evening, Aunt Raven and I planted ourselves on the porch to watch the stars poke out, twinkle by twinkle, in the slate blue sky.

It was a nightly affair, and one no city dweller could ever take notice of, amidst sodium and neon lights.

Cutting through the blossoming darkness, headlights appeared on the road, slowed, turned into the driveway.

Yang shimmied down the pickup cab, shiny even under the muted glow of the gathering moonlight.

"Evening, ladies. Just thought I'd drop by on my way home with that new pair of reins. Came in today."

"Thank you, Mr. Xiao Long," said Aunt Raven. "Sit down and stay awhile. We haven't had dessert yet. Homemade strawberry pie."

He did just that. We spent the next hour or so immersed in lighthearted conversation, strawberries, and whipped cream.

After he left, Aunt Raven noted, "I think he likes you, girl."

Likes me? "No way. Why would he?"

She shrugged. "He could have brought the reins on Sunday."

Which proved exactly zip.

He was driving by . . .

"Even if the reins were important, he didn't have to stay for dessert."

"Maybe not. But I'm not good enough for him."

"Why would you say such a thing, Blake?"

"Have you looked at him, Raven? He's beautiful."

"Have you looked in a mirror lately? So are you. So are you."

"Me? Beautiful? I'm plain as a cardboard."

Aunt Raven sighed. "That may be how you see yourself, but the rest of the world would be hardly agree. You shine brighter than the stars. Now there are those who might try to take that from you, but you don't have to give it away. Keep on shining, Blake. And when the right young man comes along, he'll love you all the more for giving this sad planet your light."


	95. Chapter 95

I didn't know how to respond, but with a simple thank you.

Then I excused myself and went in to bed.

I sat in the rocker, staring out at the stars. Aunt Raven's words floating in my head.

I'd never thought of myself as anything but banal. Could I see myself as beautiful instead?

Smaller steps, maybe?

"Pretty" would do, or even "cute."

Still this was territory I almost feared to tread.

I felt like a snake, perhaps a bit afraid of the brand-new serpent, commanding an old skin to shed.

The morning after found me antsy, so I borrowed Aunt Raven's .22 and hiked back up into the summer-kissed hills.

Before I left, she insisted I clean the rifle, which had sat, unused, for more quite a while.

I'd never cleaned a gun before, and as I thought about it, I began to wonder why Dad had never taught me that skill.

"A dirty gun is not a weapon," Aunt Raven said. "You could easily take out your eye just as easily as hitting a target."

Anyway, she showed me how, and as I walked, the scent of gun oil blended with evergreen.

Heavenly!

It had been several weeks since I'd shot a gun and for ten or fifteen minutes I felt as rusty as tin in salt air.

But then it all came tumbling back and for quite some time I amused myself, shooting ever-smaller pinecones from the trees.

As I wandered farther and father into the belly of the forest, a flash of beige brushed the corner of my eye.

I froze, and so did the doe, heavy with fawn.

We gave each other a stout once-over, then she flinched and vanished, a whisper.

It came to me that I never considered raising that gun and taking aim, not that a .22 was much in the way of a hunting rifle.

And in a moment of clarity, I understood that while killing for meat can be tolerated, killing for passion might very well be easier.


	96. Chapter 96

By Friday afternoon, I decided my bottom had healed enough to practice a bit on Old Poncho.

I didn't want to look like a complete fool in front of Yang.

(The best-laid plans . . .)

Aunt Raven was taking a nap when I wandered down to the barn, clipped a rope to Poncho's halter, and led him to the tack room.

(That much I remembered.)

I slipped a blanket over his back, topped it with the saddle, reached for the cinch. That's when things got a bit hazy memory-wise.

(I'd only seen it done once!)

Through one ring, pull it tight, now some kind of a knot? Okay, it didn't feel exactly right, but I calculated it might do.

(Math was not my best subject.)

Whatever I did, it managed to hold my weight as I stepped up into the stirrup and pulled myself into the saddle.

(Thereby increasing my confidence.)

I'd forgotten the bridle completely, but Poncho didn't seem to care. He steered just fine without a bit, at least while circling at a walk.

(Building my confidence even more.)

I knew I had to trot sometime, master whatever technique stopped one from bouncing. I nudged him to pick up speed.

(Things started to go wrong immediately.)

_Plop-plop-plop. _Bounce, bounce, bounce. Maybe faster was better? I kicked one. Poncho upped his pace. Still bouncing. I kicked again.

(In retrospect, it was a bad move.)

Poncho had had quite enough. He feinted right. I leaned right, just as he shifted left. Completely baffled, my body kept right.

(About then, I suspected something was amiss.)

The saddle moved along with my weight, cocking sideways. I grabbed the horn and planted my feet in the stirrups.

(Not exactly the right thing to do.)

Poncho put on the brakes, resulting in the saddle and me coming to a sudden halt, at a ninety-degree angle to the horizon.

(Hilarious, if it had been someone else.)

About then, I happened to glance toward the driveway, where a shiny blue pickup truck had parked.

Yang stood beside it, grinning.

(Like I said, the best laid plans . . .)


	97. Chapter 97

No way off that horse, but to look like a total idiot and fall butt-first in the dirt, so that's exactly what I did.

"I thought your problem was sitting a trot, not getting off the horse." Yang stood over me, grinning.

Aunt Raven _told _him? My face bubbled heat. "Apparently, I've got multiple problems."

Yang's grin broadened. He offered a hand, pulled me to my feet. "Don't we all?"

Poncho snorted and moved to one side, and the saddle slid completely under his belly.

"Hard to sit on a horse sideways, Blake, least that's what I've always believed."

"Really? Well, I didn't have much of a problem with the sideways thing. Not, straight up and down . . . "

He laughed out loud. "We'll have to work on that, okay? Ready to put the old boy away?"

_We'll _have to work on that? Why did I so like the sound of that?

He was so good-looking!

Yang undid what was left of my cinch knot, hoisted the saddle up over one shoulder.

I led Poncho back to his pasture, Yang so close his scent-sunbaked skin-engulfed me.

"I'm glad you could spend the summer with your aunt. She doesn't get much company out here."

At least she hadn't told him _everything. _"I'm glad I came."

Getting gladder by the minute.

Was that even a word?


	98. Chapter 98

Yang helped me feed and water the livestock, all the time making small talk.

He was working at the feed store to help pay for his next semester at medical school. He was going to be a veterinarian.

I told him I had no clue what I wanted to be.

His mom had recently died and his dad lived, single, on eighty acres, just a couple miles from where we stood.

I told him my dad should have stayed single.

He had no brothers or sisters and was, in fact, lucky to have made it into this world.

His mom had had problems carrying babies.

I told him my mom was the goddess of fertility.

He'd had a girl at medical school, but when he brought her home for a visit, she took a good look around and decided Caliente was beneath her-meaning he was too.

I told him not even hell was beneath my ex.

He wasn't White Fang.

I told him I wasn't sure I was either.

If he thought I was crazy, he didn't say so, or even give me a look that did.

The more we talked, the more I liked him, and that didn't scare me a bit.

Finally, it struck me that he must have come over for some particular reason.

Turned out, Aunt Raven invited him to dinner.

As we wandered back toward the house, she came out onto the porch. "You two about ready for supper? Hope so, because supper's about ready for you."

We went inside, washed up, and by the time we got to the table, dinner had already arrived.

Fried chicken, mashed potatoes, green beans canned personally by Aunt Raven homemade apple crisp. Oh yes, and a bottle of good Merlot.

Not that I knew good wine from bad, and of course, the guilt train got rolling as soon as the cork popped.

"My husband was the wine collector," said Aunt Raven. "I don't tap into the cellar often. Just for special company."

Delicious food, mellow wine, and Yang's very warm leg, real close to mine.

From time to time, our thighs touched and neither of us hurried to pull them apart.

Did he realize what he was doing to me? Was I doing the same thing to him?


	99. Chapter 99

Half of me said yes.

I hadn't imagined it.

He had kept his leg there.

I hadn't started it.

He had initiated contact.

I hadn't insisted.

He had enjoyed it.

The half insisted I was crazy.

He was perfect.

I was plain.

He was worthy of a rock star.

I deserved a zero.

He was all a man should be.

I wasn't yet a woman.

I mean, physically I was, yes. Mother Nature came to call regularly.

But emotionally?

I was about six years old, still Daddy's little girl, even though Daddy couldn't care less about me.

How could I expect any man ever would?


	100. Chapter 100

_Journal Entry, June 16_

What is the matter with me?

Three months ago, I barely knew boys existed.

First I couldn't get Neptune out of my mind, even though I had no chance at him, ever.

Then it was Sun I thought I had to be with, even though he was a total jerk. (Should have known.)

Now it's Yang-too old for me, too good-looking for me, too everything, except White Fang.

So why this amazing attraction?

Why do I even think he might be a little bit interested in me?

Even if he is interested, do I want a summer fling?

That was great, see ya later?

And what if we actually fell in love?

How could it ever work out?

Just think if Dad found out!

Why can't i just forget about guys?

Do I want to end up like Aunt Raven?

Or worse, like Mom?


	101. Chapter 101

I tend to overanalyze.

So the next day I tried not to think about him at all.

Let things happen as they're meant to, I told myself.

Aunt Raven was planting the garden, turning long, even rows of dirt so rich you could breathe in the compost smell.

I helped her rake the soil smooth, enjoying the sun's gentle pulse on my back and the mindless labor.

For an hour or more we worked quietly.

Not a single question popped into my head. Work is good for that.

But when we stopped for lunch and lemonade, _bam, bam, bam, _there came the questions in rapid succession.

"How long were you and Uncle Stan married?"

"How did he die?"

"Why didn't you ever have children?"

She shook her head, chuckling. "Geez, girl, you do ask personal questions, don't you? Oh well, a week after our thirteenth anniversary, Stan found out he had stomach cancer. He fought it for almost a year, but it finally got the best of him. I wanted children and we tried to have them, but I couldn't carry a child to full term. After three miscarriages, I had enough."

That made me think of something Yang said. "Yang's mom had trouble carrying babies too. Isn't that weird?"

"No, Blake, it's not. You see. . . . we both had cancer. . . . Never mind that, I've got beans to plant."


	102. Chapter 102

I didn't even know she had cancer.

Didn't know about the miscarriages, or that she'd lost her husband and mother to the same thing.

Learning about all of the painful miscarriages, the fact she had cancer, made me feel selfish for ever having pity for myself.

Compared to Aunt Raven's, my life was a piece of cake.

I watched her in the garden, tough as a blizzard in winter, despite pain no person should have to bear, and I wondered if she ever broke down and screamed, ever thought about hurting someone like she'd been hurt (Dad, for instance).

Other questions smoldered inside, burning their way out of my brain, aiming for my mouth.

I figured I'd wait a day or two to ask them, though.

Even though Aunt Raven had opened up considerably, I didn't want to keep prying.

One question wouldn't go away, though.

So as we worked together on dinner, I posed it.

"Why did Dad want to go to the war?"

Aunt Raven kept chopping broccoli. "I can't speak for James, Blake. But my heart tells me that it had nothing to do with ideals or moral obligation or even knowing that if he didn't join, he'd very likely get drafted. Soldiering was in his blood . . . . "

Her unfinished thought drifted across the kitchen, a heavy stink, tainting the sweet summer air:

Killing was in Dad's blood.

Sleep was really hard that night.

And it wasn't just the moon, shining full and bronze through my bedroom window.

Ever since I'd been with Aunt Raven, I'd never learned things-some like driving, were incredible things that I'd thought I might never learn. Others were things maybe I didn't want to know-that made me question every little corner of my world, even the nooks I'd always felt safe tucked into.

Things like the truth about the law, so easily warped to fit circumstances, like patriotism; the necessity of war. Even things like school, preparing and sacrificing for the future, with zero guarantee of a future and no clue what kind it would be, should we happen to find ourselves there. I stared wearily out at the moon, shimmering, clean, in the pacific night sky, lost in deep thought.


	103. Chapter 103

The next morning before dawn, I woke to the crunching gravel as Yang's pickup pulled into the driveway, horse trailer in tow.

Yang. I smiled myself awake.

"Are you gonna sleep all day?" called Aunt Raven, the screen door slamming behind her.

I wrestled myself out of bed, slipped into the jeans she had loaned me. They fit like they should.

Snug, but not too tight.

Brushed my teeth. Tied my hair back. Wish I had some makeup.

And knew how to use it.

But I didn't.

What Yang saw, Yang would get.

Wait that wasn't right.

Or maybe it was exactly right.

We saddled up just past daybreak, the sun glowing tangerine behind a soft wash of morning.

Yang's big black, Bumblebee, pawed impatiently as his human tightened my cinch.

"Don't ride sideways, now," Yang said, smiling. "That would be showing off."

Old Poncho stood, still as a post, as I tried to find a half-comfy position for my bruised behind.

We started off at a gentle pace, Aunt Raven on Paprika. The mare fit her name-copper red, with a temper.

"She's edgy today," said Aunt Raven. "It's been a while since she's waded into a herd of cattle."

Edgy. Exactly. A jackrabbit dashed across the trail and Paprika danced into the air.

"Better let her run. You guys up for speed?" Aunt Raven didn't wait for an answer. Neither did Paprika.

Yang's black was game. He took off after the copper mare like it was a speed race.

Poncho responded with a butt-jarring, teeth-rattling trot. _Plop-plop-plop-plop._

Aunt Raven looked back, laughed, and yelled, "Let loose of the reins and give him a kick!"

I did. Reluctantly, Poncho launched into an easy canter. _Karoomp-karoomp-karoomp._

Bumblebee caught Paprika and the two ran neck and neck. It was thrilling to watch.

Bouncing, sliding, and somehow hanging on, Poncho and I followed their dust for a quarter mile or so.

Finally, they slowed. "There they are," shouted Aunt Raven. "Just waiting for someone to bring them to fodder."

A cattle is a majestic sight, 2000 pounds of beef, with horns that could make the devil tuck tail.

Ninety cows and a bull, plus calves in various sizes, dotted a meadow just beyond a cattle chute.

"This drought has been rampaging the low meadow. We'll move them up-country, on government land, for the summer. Howie! Maizie!"

Shepherds were born to herd. The dogs leaped into action and the cattle took notice.


	104. Chapter 104

Personally, I took notice of Yang.

I was never big on cowboy flicks, but watching Yang command that big black horse was by far the sexiest thing I had ever seen. (Bumblebee, because both of them together were black and yellow. Genius!)

He didn't need the reins, but moved the black by shifting weight.

Their rapport-musical, syncopated-was a thing of incredible beauty. I knew I wouldn't walk right for days, but I didn't care.

Just being there was worth every bump and lump.

Through a stretch of barbed wire fence, we entered public land, where cattle could graze for a small fee and, according to Aunt Raven, "A ration of shit from the 'greenies.' Not that I don't think our environment needs protection. But this country was blessed with all the necessities for running beef. I have to believe that's what nature had in mind."

We spent the better part of the day coaxing the dogs. (They really liked me. . . . more than I was comfortable with. . . .)

And moving the herd up-mountain. It probably seems dumb, but I'd never had so much fun.

The shadows stretched long toward the east by the time we reached the high meadow reservoir.

Dogs, horses, and cattle took a good deep swallow, and just about then I realized we'd be riding home in the dark.

But Aunt Raven had other plans.

With the cattle free to graze at will, we unsaddled the horses, tied them on long leads, and left them to the tall grass.

A perfume of grass followed their munching.

I hadn't even noticed the bedrolls and saddlebags.

Once I did it became clear we were spending the night. I'd never in my life camped out under open sky.

Yang and I gathered firewood as Aunt Raven cleared a spot in the sand near the water. "The grass is green, but we can't take a chance on lighting a wildfire. Sand is tougher to burn."

A sudden urge hit and it came to me.

I hadn't gone to pee all day. How could I go now, with Yang right there?

I pulled Aunt Raven off to one side. "I really gotta go . . . you know."

She chuckled. "Yang Xiao Long, face your head toward the lake, now. Don't move until I say so." Then she pointed toward a nearby deadfall. "Your throne awaits you, Princess."

I didn't feel much like royalty, squatting behind that old dead tree, but I don't think Yang peeked.

I'm pretty sure Sun would have tried. He and his crew were definitely that type.

Anyway, as dusk rolled out its deep blue carpet and the stars lit up, one by one, we sat around the campfire, eating sandwiches and apples.

In the fringe of woods, coyotes fired up a serenade.

Hardly aware I was doing it, I scooted a little closer to Yang. He put a good-natured arm around my shoulder. "You aren't afraid of those coyotes, are you? They won't bother us."

His touch was electric. I didn't dare move, didn't want to disturb the stunning connection.

My voice was barely a whisper. "It's just a little spooky, being out here, so close to them."

I prayed he wouldn't take his arm away, wouldn't leave me shaking in the descending darkness.

He didn't.

Instead he pulled me in to him. "Don't worry, pretty lady. I'll keep you safe."

It was a moment to read about in a romance novel, to see on a movie screen. All that was missing was for him to turn his face toward mine, tilt my chin, and part his sultry lips . . .

But even without the kiss, it was magical.


	105. Chapter 105

We stoked the campfire for the night, unfolded the bedrolls.

They were thing, but the night was warm.

Before very long, Aunt Raven was asleep.

Yang and I lay, feet to the fire, staring up at the black sky, where I swear a billion stars had shown their lovely faces.

I'd never seen such beauty in my life. "Do you suppose anything lives out there?" I asked.

"Well, of course," Yang answered. "The universe is a pretty big place. Besides, I'd be really surprised if the Creator didn't add more life to it somehow. I think He must be really disappointed in His humankind experiment."

I thought about that for a little bit, then asked, "So you believe the Creator really exists? I used to think so, but lately I'm not so sure I believe in anything."

Not the Creator. Not family. Surely not love.

Yang propped himself on one elbow, looked straight down into my eyes.

"Can't you see Him, sleeping there in your Aunt Raven?"

"Can't you see Him, sighing through the junipers?"

"Can't you smell Him, raining life down on the desert?"

He hesitated, unsure, found what he needed in my eyes, then finished, "Can you feel Him when I do this?"

Yang reached down, kissed me, long and deep and sweet as a mountain spring.

And in that kiss was little doubt of anything.

Especially love.


	106. Chapter 106

It was the kiss you dream about.

The one that makes you understand what all the hype is about.

Nothing I'd done with Sun had produced the kind of electricity now sizzling through my veins.

In fact, all I'd done with Sun-the best of it, and the worst of it-became instantly inconsequential. (In fact, who was Sun?)

I didn't want Yang to stop, and he didn't for a very long time.

When he finally pulled away, he stroked my cheek, brushed my hair from my eyes, and said, "I hope it was okay."

"No," I whispered, hoarse with want. "It wasn't okay at all. . . . It was pretty much perfect."

"Good," he said, nesting down into the tall grass. "Because, as far I'm concerned," a warm smile formed on his expression, his vivid lilac eyes looking deep into my amber ones, "that's only the beginning."

But he didn't try to escalate.

Didn't even kiss me again. Instead, he pulled me into his arms.

My ear settled against his chest as he fell into a satisfied slumber.

It was all so natural, yet so completely new, listening to the rhythm of his breathing beneath my ear.

_Only the beginning . . . _

What that might mean was way too frightening to consider.

In my limited realm of experience, beginnings led to endings.

I ran my hand lightly over his body, memorized muscle and bone.

He responded with a sigh. I breathed him in.

He smelled of apples, horse, and well-earned sweat, which I somehow found attractive.

He smelled real.

He was real. Wasn't he?

If I awoke in the morning to find him gone, would I think it was all a dream?

Or would I more likely believe it was all a mistake?


	107. Chapter 107

I awoke to the colorless pall of early morning, and a hint of dew on my bedroll.

It took a few seconds to realize where I was and when I did, the night before absolutely seemed like only a dream.

And yet, there was Yang, beside me.

He rolled toward me, cracked one eye open, and said, "Morning, m'lady. Sleep well?"

I smiled. "I'm not exactly sure. Last night seems a bit hazy." (Since when did I become "coy"?)

Yang pretended hurt. "Is that so? Well, tell me, how much is clear?"

"Let me see. I remember sitting by the fire, ravenously consuming a cold supper . . . "

"Okay, sounds like we were both in the same general vicinity. What else?"

"Something regarding coyotes . . . and was there a discussion about the Creator?"

"The Creator and extraterrestrial life. A deep philosophical dialogue. After that?"

"Hmm . . . I'm trying to remember, really I am. Can you give me a little hint?"

"With pleasure." Our second kiss, though shorter, was every bit as memorable as the first.


	108. Chapter 108

Shorter because Aunt Raven was already up and singing a ballad, accompanied by the paw of horses, an occasional moo, and the good-natured yip-yip of dogs.

She glanced our way, no shock, no anger, then gave a wink absent of _I told you so. _"Sorry to say breakfast is more of dinner, only staler. But I'm betting you two are hungry."

Hungry, why? Exactly how much did she know?

Surely she hadn't witnessed the vivid scene the night before!

Had she seen us sleeping head to shoulder?

Yang excused himself and wandered over behind the deadfall.

Aunt Raven took the opportunity to observe, "Hope you got a little sleep. It's a decent ride home."

I scooted out of my bedroll, drew closer to the morning campfire. So much I wanted to say, but where to start? I settled for, "Thanks, Raven."

Her eyes, honest, took hold of my own. "There's nothing to thank me for. Just keep on shining that light. The rest will take care of itself."


	109. Chapter 109

Without the cattle to keep track of, the ride home was more relaxed.

Even Old Poncho seemed more at ease, swaying his head as he clomped along.

Yang kept Bumblebee close by my side, and I, in my life, felt like anything was possible, everything right.

For five hours, in fact, I felt so fine I didn't once overanalyze the perfect emotion, budding inside.

The one I'd always feared the most.

Closing in on home, Aunt Raven reined in Paprika. "Yang, Blake has never really had a taste of a good horse underneath her. Put her behind you and give her a dose, would you?"

I climbed up behind him, shaking slightly, both at the idea of what was to come, and the idea of cinching my arms tight around him.

The black didn't much care for the notion of double, but Yang was most definitely in control. The horse tensed as Yang said, "fasten your seat belt."

I did as instructed, wrapping myself around him like duct tape.

Aunt Raven took charge of Poncho as Yang urged Bumblebee forward.

Two steps and we hit a dead gallop.

Wow, what a feeling! Beneath a layer of denim, the gelding's muscles flexed and pulsed as we picked up speed.

I buried my face in Yang's shirt, closed my eyes.

I was flying, no lass than an eagle.

I was belly to back with the most incredible man in the world, a man who had kissed me like I never expected to be kissed. Ever.

I was the luckiest girl in the world.

Deep in my brain, I heard Aunt Raven's words. _True love finds you once, if you're lucky._

Had true love come knocking at my door?


	110. Chapter 110

Back at the ranch, Yang clearly didn't want to leave right away, and Aunt Raven, bless her heart, said, "I appreciate your help. The least I can do is offer you a hot supper. It shouldn't take long."

Yang and I walked the horses, cooling them down before letting them eat or drink.

We paced in a large circle, side by side, letting our bodies touch, loving the touch.

Yang was warmth in the cooling night, a lantern in drawing darkness.

Yet my high began to sink. The events of the last two days had me breathless. I wanted more.

Did I expect too much?

Yang had something on his mind.

I could almost hear the churn of words inside his head.

My heart lifted into my throat. Everything felt so right.

Would he tell me instead it was wrong.

As if reading my mind Yang stopped, took my hand. "Blake, hold on a second. I'm not really sure what came over me . . . "

No! Please no? Not_ had to happen sometime_. My face must have crumbled.

"No, no. I'm not saying I made a mistake. It just happened so fast. Falling for you, I mean."

Falling? In love? In lust? Where else could you fall?

Without answers, I didn't know what to say.

"The first time I saw you-at the grocery store that day-there was something about you. Something sad, deep down sad . . . "

How could I forget that day?

The day my father abandoned me. The day I would forever thank him for.

"But there was also a touch of redemption. I wondered how the two could coexist in the same soul. I was so sad myself. . . . "

How could he have seen all that in just one passing glance? On that day I didn't feel very redeemed.

"I wanted to know you. When I saw you with your Aunt Raven, I knew I'd get my chance."

Yang pulled me into his arms, kissed my forehead. I looked up into his eyes and found my answers.

"I just want you to feel the same way. If you want me to back off, slow things down, I will."

I shook my head. "Don't back off, Yang." I reached up, put my arms around his neck, and this time _I _kissed him.


	111. Chapter 111

_Journal Entry, June 19_

I can't sleep. Maybe I'll never sleep again.

Does your brain ever shut down, once you fall in love?

Am I in love?

It sure feels like love.

Yang is everything any girl could ask for. And he promises he wants me.

Why me?

Shut up, Blake. Quit asking that question. Why even care why he wants you?

Isn't it enough that he does?

I know guys like. Enjoy the game.

But I have to believe Yang is different.

Do his eyes lie?

His kisses?

When he kisses me, it's like being born again.

Born where love isn't just a word, but something alive, throbbing with life. That's how I feel tonight.

Throbbing with life.

Did Mom and Dad ever feel like this? For each other?

I want to believe it.

But I can't.


	112. Chapter 112

Yang started stopping by every evening on his way home.

June was a hazy blur of days with Aunt Raven, mostly spent in nervous anticipation of evenings with Yang.

Aunt Raven never said a disapproving word, but after a week or so, she did offer an obligatory warning.

"You two seem to be getting serious. I can't expect you to keep saying no. But I hope you know how to be careful, Blake."

Up till then, I hadn't had to say no. Yang treated me with nothing but respect.

But things had definitely heated up.

A time or two, cradled in his lap, kissing until his desire became obvious, I had almost wanted to.

But even though most of me was a new, liberated Blake, traces of the old, conservative Blake lingered, hard to shake off.

The next-to-last thing I wanted was a baby.

The very last thing I wanted was ever having to tell my dad I was pregnant.


	113. Chapter 113

Thursday, June 29, kicked off the extra-long Fourth of July weekend.

It also happened to be my seventeenth birthday.

I truly expected a card from Mom and Dad.

Never arrived.

Never even got a call.

To be fair, Velvet sent a card a few days late.

Said girls' camp was entertaining, especially when they tried to freak everyone out with scary stories about the devil dropping in overnight.

She said Mom was as big as a cow.

Ulyssa had her first period, Teddie had her first crush, Davie got straight A's, Roberta lost her two front teeth, Georgia still sucked her thumb, and Dad was meaner than ever.

Everything pissed him off.

The window he had to pay for, the ER bill he had to pay for, tithing 10 percent when everything was up 10 percent and he had a new baby coming.

Diapers were up 10 percent.

And Johnnie was up 20 percent.

I wanted to write her back, tell her none of that mattered, that out here in the real world were people like Aunt Raven.

And Yang.

I wanted to tell her everything about him.

But I knew any letter from me would never get past my dad.


	114. Chapter 114

Back to my birthday.

What a celebration Aunt Raven planned!

We would drive into the city for a shopping spree.

Later, Yang would join us for dinner and a movie.

A movie!

The mall had tons and tons of stuff. Just looking at all that stuff made me kind of delirious.

Sure, I'd been to malls before, but never after weeks of feed stores and mini-marts.

Aunt Raven planned on stocking the pantry, and I planned on having a great time helping her.

We strolled along the clothing aisle, commenting on summer fashions.

Aunt Raven insisted I model blouses and shorts and jeans.

Anything I liked went into the shopping cart.

I couldn't believe it.

Store-bought clothes were like gold in my house.

But there was more.

Books.

Music-a small CD player and discs to go in it.

Pricey shampoo and sweet smelling lotion.

Makeup.

I tried to protest, but Aunt Raven wouldn't listen.

"It makes me happy to see a smile on your face, Blake. Besides, I've got money collecting dust in the bank. Might as well spend a little of it."


	115. Chapter 115

We spent more than a little.

I won't confess exactly how much, but I'd never before seen a register ring up a total like that.

(Not even a week's worth shopping trip for a family of nine!)

On the way to dinner, I slithered into a new pair of jeans-my very first.

Is there anything quite wonderful as developing a relationship with brand-new jeans?

Above them went a zip-up V-neck shirt, light grey in color. Even I had to admit it looked great of the olive color of my arms.

Above that went a light brush of purple shadow flaring backwards. (Aunt Raven said the color went best with my eye color) and a stroke or two of soft black mascara.

Somehow I managed with only the tiniest smear.

And when I stepped down from the pickup, I felt a year older.

A decade wiser.

Prettier than I'd ever believed I could feel.

That's how Yang saw me when he found us at the restaurant.

They say the world sees you as you see yourself, and that night I saw myself in a different way.

Pretty. Almost desirable.

Yang's eyes told me I was both. And more.

He kissed me. In front of the whole restaurant. "Happy birthday, Blake."

We had so much fun at dinner-authentic Vacuo cuisine, the real deal.

I let Aunt Raven order for me. The selection of sizzling and steaming food in a cast-iron skillet made my mouth water.

I polished them off and just as I finished up, our waitress plopped a party hat on my head.

Another waitress joined her, carrying three plates of flan. One had a candle in the middle.

They sang "Happy Birthday", and everyone clapped.

And as we left for the movie, it crossed my mind that I didn't really need a birthday card from home.

Aunt Raven surprised me again. "You two can watch the movie without me. I'm tired and it's a long drive home for me."

I tried to talk her our of her plan, but Aunt Raven could be stubborn.

"Only so much fun a middle-aged woman like myself can take in one day. Shoppin'. Eating until I'm ready to burst. . . . "

I tried to thank her for making my birthday more special than any before.

"Aww. What are birthdays for? You'll take good care of her, won't you, Yang? Not too much candy, you hear?"

Yang laughed, kissed her cheek, and promised I was in very good hands.


	116. Chapter 116

Perfect hands, actually.

They opened the door to his pickup, lifted me onto the seat.

Yang slid under the wheel, sat for a moment, just looking at me. "Do you know how beautiful you are?"

I shook my head. "I'm not. But you make me feel like I am." I wanted to be beautiful.

To him. For him.

I didn't really care how anybody else saw me. Only Yang.

He reached across me, opened the glove compartment, extracted a little box wrapped in gold foil.

He cradled it in his perfect hand, offered it to me like a toddle might.

Inside was an oval locket, etched on a serpentine chain, and inside was a photo of Yang.

"So you'll always carry me with you."

I fingered the intricate carvings, the interlocking links of chain.

And the I turned it over.

Engraved on the back were three magic words.

Yang pulled me close, repeated those words. "I love you, Blake."

He kissed me, delicious as honey.

His kiss held love. His eyes held love.

Goose bumps erupted all over my body. I was thrilled.

Terrified.

But I couldn't deny how I felt about him. "I love you, too, Yang."


	117. Chapter 117

We went to a movie.

Probably only the third in my life, and my first ever with a guy.

I should remember everything about it. But I don't.

I don't remember the names of the actors, and all I can recall about the plot is that everyone thought the main character was someone he wasn't.

(Aren't we all someone we're not?)

I do remember the smell of popcorn as we walked through the door, and whiny children, pleading for candy and soda pop.

I remembered how people seemed to smile at us, a young couple, hand in hand.

I wondered if they smiled because they knew we were in love.

Or maybe they smiled at what they imagined we did in the dark.

Doing stuff in the dark of the movie theater is what I remember best.

I also remember the drive home.

Tucked close beside Yang, his picture tucked close to my heart, where I would carry him always.

He drove slowly, and we talked and talked about our lives before each other, and what might become of our lives now that they intertwined.

How would we keep out love alive, with him at college and me at school, daily existence at odds.

Where would I go to school?

No one had mentioned if or when my extended vacation might end.

If I stayed with Aunt Raven, my school would be seven hundred miles from Yang's.

If I went home, our schools would be less than two hundred miles apart.

Not an insurmountable distance.

Unless you figured in my dad.

Of course, there were ways around my dad.

Weren't there? . . .

Even if there were ways around my dad, did I want to have to find them?

Did I want to go home?

Living with Aunt Raven had opened my eyes to harsh realities.

Harsh realities smoldering at home.

To the true meanings of love.

Love, like between Aunt Raven and me.

Love I wouldn't find at home.

Love, like I had discovered in Yang's arms.

Love that home might destroy.

But if I stayed with Aunt Raven, Yang seven hundred miles away, what would become of our love?


	118. Chapter 118

Three magic words had changed my existence yet again, words I'd feared and now embraced.

_I love you_ played over and over in my head, music without melody.

I sat very close, almost in his lap, head against his shoulder, breathing him in, hand on his thigh.

He was warm, and my warmth.

Strong, and my strength.

Yang was no summer fling.

Suddenly, certainly, he was everything.

How could I ever live without him? . . .

We agreed not to worry about it the rest of the weekend, five whole days to spend together, culminating with the July Fourth BBQ and fireworks extravaganza.

I would meet Yang's dad that evening.

Meanwhile, I wanted one thing-okay, I wanted several, but I had one particular goal in mind, which I brought up on Saturday.

"Yang, will you teach me to ride?"

And not Old Poncho.

Paprika.

Yang was patient. Not so Paprika. She took one look at me and decided to teach me the finer points of equine bitchery.

She snorted.

Kicked.

Rooted herself and refused to move.

When I finally convinced her otherwise, she lowered her head and bucked.

Then she reared and pawed the air.

I dropped the reins, grabbed hold of the horn, and somehow stayed in the saddle.

But it wasn't what you'd call pretty.


	119. Chapter 119

Aunt Raven had come out to watch my progress-or lack of it.

"She doesn't like working behind fences. Take her out on the trail for a real ride."

First, Aunt Raven gave me some pointers.

"The key to Paprika is letting her think she's getting her way. Don't fight her. Convince her."

Yang clarified, "Gentle hands, gentle legs."

"Let the reins all the way loose," continued Aunt Raven. "Now give her an easy nudge."

Instinct insisted I tighten my grip, but I did as instructed.

"There now, see how sweet that mare moves? Just like a rocking horse."

A rowdy rocking horse, but she was cooperating.

"Teamwork. With Paprika, it's all about teamwork. Ask her to lope."

Lope? At my confused look, Yang said, "Canter."

"A little tap with your heels should do. Remember, it's a request."

I requested. Paprika responded enthusiastically.

"Now shift your weight to one side, see how she moves right along with you."

I shifted right. Paprika moved right. Left, left.

"That's it! You look like a real cowgirl now!" Aunt Raven laughed.

After an hour of coaxing and correcting, I almost felt like one too.


	120. Chapter 120

The idea of a trail ride half scared, half excited me.

But Yang insisted I'd be fine, so he went home for Bumblebee.

We hit the trail early afternoon, jogging down the jeep track well beyond the cattle chutes.

Paprika was up for a gallop, and so was Bumblebee.

Yang and I gave the horses their heads.

What a rush!

If you've never ridden a horse at a dead run, you can't understand the awesome power beneath your clinging thighs.

It was total fear and total exhilaration, all wrapped up in one amazing bundle of horseflesh. And I (mostly) controlled it.

With much of her energy spent, Paprika went docilely along with the game plan.

Yang and I rode for miles and miles.

We paralleled a snake of train tracks, smack beneath steep ledges of granite, sandstone, and minerals I couldn't identify.

The cliffs were beautiful and dangerous.

Boulders, some the size of trucks, had tumbled down to land like solitary soldiers.

Yang pointed. "That's where they'll run their trains. Can you believe what total idiots they are? One rock slide . . . "

I considered a head on between a train and truck-sized boulders. One rock slide and the train was done for.


	121. Chapter 121

We stopped for lunch on a shady bank of the little stream bisecting the canyon.

"Thank you, Yang."

The horses munched contentedly as Yang unrolled a bamboo mat. "What for, pretty lady?"

I let myself recline, to better inspect the cloudless July sky. "For teaching me to ride . . . "

Yang lay down beside me, took my hand and kissed my fingers. "You're a quick learner."

I closed my eyes, loving the wet of his tongue on my fingertips. "For showing me this country . . . "

He lifted up on one elbow, and his voice drifted down over me. "I want to show you the world."

Drowsy with heat and the lull of his touch, I licked my lips. "For loving me."

He tilted my chin and I looked up into his electric lilac eyes. "Let me teach you what love is."


	122. Chapter 122

His body settled gently upon mine.

He kissed my eyes, my lips, my neck, then his mouth crept softly down the length of my torso.

Something stirred beneath my skin, some being inside I'd only suspected existed, demon or angel, I couldn't say.

Either way, it woke a desire so bold it shook me to my core, made me cry out for more.

I wanted all of Yang.

And he wanted me, I felt it in the fire of his kiss, in the way his body trembled.

And yet, he hesitated.

"Only if you're sure."

The old Blake had vanished, smoke.

I didn't think about the devil, didn't think about the Creator, didn't think about babies.

We shed our shirts, unzipped our jeans, and would have made love right that minute.

Except for just about then . . .

All Hell broke loose.

From a snag of rocks across the stream, and not a hundred feet away, came a predatory snarl.

The horses reacted with terrified whinnies and vicious thrusts of defensive hooves.

Yang and I jumped to our feet, caught sight of the intruder-a cougar, the size of a Great Dane.

He had wandered down the hill for a midday drink, to find horses and a half-naked couple.

Yang or I was the easier meal, especially once the horses tugged loose and bolted for home.

The mountain lion approached leisurely, intently, measuring distance and possible resistance.

Yang groped in the tall grass, found a tree branch big enough to do some damage.

"Back away slowly," he instructed. "If he comes after me, you run, got it? Run toward the road."

Then he pulled himself up very tall and strode toward the lion, roaring at the top of his lungs.

I could have run then, probably should have run then.

Instead, I picked up a sizeable rock and ran with him too.

At our noisy advance, the cougar paused, glancing warily back and forth between Yang and me.

Every hunter gets a moment.

This was mine.

I took dead aim, and hurled the rock.

It flew straight to its mark, hit the cat in the rib cage with a tremendous _thunk._

The animal _yeowled_ in protest, and Yang hefted the branch like a batter waiting for a pitch.

But the cougar turned on his haunches and retreated up the hardscrabble hillside.

We waited a few minutes, making sure he didn't change his mind.

Finally, Yang relaxed his batter's stance, grinned. "Not bad, for a girl."

Then he laughed and I did too.


	123. Chapter 123

His eyes held admiration.

Adoration.

Evaluation.

"Has anyone ever told you how great you look with your shirt off?"

I glanced down at my chest, covered only by a thin sports bra and a sheen of sweat.

_Not bad, _I thought, before a sudden wave of nausea made me sink to my knees.

My stomach churned around a knot of confusion.

Had my hunter's moment been insane or courageous?

Yang rushed to me, pulled me into his arms. "Don't worry. He's gone. And you were incredible. Still, we'd better find our clothes and head for home. We've got a really long walk . . . "

He didn't say it, but I thought it-the addendum we both worried about.

Had the cat had enough for one day? Or would he follow along?

Either way, we had no choice, but to put on foot in front of the other, and hope we might come across the horses grazing somewhere along the trail.

We plodded together in silence for quite a while.

Finally, Yang said, "I wish I would've brought my gun. Normally I would have."

"I wish you would have too. Why didn't you?"

"I thought it might upset you. Some gir- some people don't much care for guns."

"You should have asked, Yang. I happen to like guns."

He looked at her. "Really?" He tugged me to a halt. "You are full of surprises."

I smiled. "What's more, I'm a pretty good shot."

He laughed. "We'll just have to see about that."


	124. Chapter 124

We started for home again.

And once again fell quiet, both of us lost in thought about the day's events.

Around then it hit me that I had been ready to give Yang the most personal part of me.

And give it happily, without a single worry about cause and effect.

Yang was troubled too. "Blake, you know I love you, and I want to make love to you so much it hurts. But hurting you is the last thing I want. Please don't say yes just to make me happy. It has to be something you want to happen too."

"Oh, Yang, I do. I thought I'd be scared, but I'm not, with you. The only thing that worries me is getting pregnant. I could never have an abortion. And I don't want to have a baby. Not now. And my dad is crazy. Crazy enough to kill us both."

"We'll be careful, Blake. I would never expect you to have an abortion. I do want children someday, maybe even with you, but now is not the time. And I would never put your life in danger. Not from your father. And never again from a mountain lion.


	125. Chapter 125

Never say never.

But that story is yet to come.

We had probably walked two hours when a cloud of dust, heading our direction, signaled probable rescue.

Aunt Raven braked the old pickup, jerked her head out the window.

"There you are, thank the Creator. I was hoping I wouldn't have to call in the law enforcement. Search and Rescue hates these hills."

Seems Aunt Raven had once taken a tumble, not far away, on a wooded bluff. Broke her leg in several interlocking places.

"Stan didn't even start to worry until it got dark. By then it was too late to start a search. I spent a cold, helpless night up there."

Which led us to the reason for our own dilemma. Yang told the story, minus the naked part, about the cougar.

"I don't like the sound of that. Tomorrow I'd better go check on the cattle herd. I'm afraid of what I might find."


	126. Chapter 126

_Journal Entry, July 1_

What an incredible day.

So much happened, it's hard to write it all down, so here are the highlights, in semi-chronological order:

\- I rode Paprika, first in the paddock, then on the trail.

\- Yang and I came really, really close to making love.

\- We would have made love, except for the cougar:

\- I splatted the cougar with a rock, right in the side.

\- The horses bolted, so Yang and I had to walk most of the way home.

\- Aunt Raven is afraid the cougar is killing calves.

\- Tomorrow we'll ride up and check on the herd.

\- After dinner, Yang and I talked. Talked and kissed. Kissed and touched. Touched.

Why is that so much better now that he told me he loves me?

He loves me.

And all I can think of, lying here in bed, despite all that happened this incredible day, is I wish, Yang was lying next to me.


	127. Chapter 127

After Paprika, Poncho was a piece of cake, a rather bland slice.

I actually felt envious, watching Aunt Raven sashay along on Paprika.

We hit the trail early and rode at a quick clip, anxious to locate the herd.

Howie and Maizie scouted ahead and barked an alarm around noon.

The cattle were scattered across a grassy hillside. Belying the otherwise peaceful scene, vultures circled overhead.

Aunt Raven surged speed, Paprika and Bumblebee responded. Poncho and I did our best, but as usual couldn't keep up.

When we finally caught them, Aunt Raven and Yang were kneeling beside a tattered calf carcass.

Only the belly was missing.

"The cat isn't killing for food," observed Aunt Raven. "He's killing for fun. And it won't stop until he's stopped."

Yang agreed. "Some cats get a thrill out of killing just to hear an animal scream." He quickly caught himself. "Ah. . . I wasn't talking about you, Blake. Sorry."

"Some people are the same way," said Aunt Raven. "Those people have to be stopped, too."

Yang said he would draft a couple of friends and come along.

"The sooner the better. Early tomorrow, if possible, Yang."

"Think we should call Fish and Game first?" He asked.

"Too many questions will slow us down. Besides, the outcome will be the same."

"Part of his turf is private land," Yang said. "We can start there."

Aunt Raven nodded. "No one needs to know where we finally bring him down."

I wasn't about to get left behind. "Can I go too? Please?"

"I know you shoot for sport, but have you ever hunted an animal more cunning than you?"


	128. Chapter 128

I had to admit that rabbits (Don't tell Velvet!) were about as wily as it got.

But I wanted to hunt that monster with a desire so bold it surprised me.

The new Blake was more than a coffee addict, more than a budding sex fiend.

She was a blossoming thrill seeker, enchanted by each new high to happen her way.

Tracking a mountain lion, senses screaming, no guarantee who the victim or the prey, would ultimately be?

The new and improved Blake was definitely up for that.

Anyways, it wasn't hard for Yang to find a crew eager for a cougar hunt.

He and two friends arrived early the next morning.

Mike was tall and round, Mark was wiry and short, and they both carried custom firearms, guaranteed deadly.

Yang had a well-used 30.06, slide-bolt actions and large-bore barrels only vaguely familiar, I felt the odd person out.

Aunt Raven handed me a 30-30, showed me how to load the chamber, and warned, "Be very careful, she's got a big kick to her."

The gun wasn't as heavy as I'd feared, and it had a great little scope. I figured I could deal with a bit of recoil.

"She only carries six bullets, so you'll have to make your shots count," said Aunt Raven. "You won't have time to reload."

Six bullets? No problem.

It would only take one.


	129. Chapter 129

We took the 4x4's, drove to the site of Yang's and my debauchery, set off on foot in the direction of the mountain lion's hasty departure.

We crossed the stream, located his tracks on the muddy bank.

"That's a big cat," observed Mark, squatting to take a better look.

With no proper trail, we scrambled up over granite boulders, slipping on slides of shale.

The 30-30 thumped against my ribs.

The top of the hill was almost treeless, only solitary evergreens to break the gray monotony.

Mike nodded his slightly balding head. "Lion country, all right. You can see clear to Caliente."

A slight exaggeration, but disquieting nonetheless.

Still I felt no fear. There was safety in our numbers.

"We're looking for shit, prints, maybe his leftovers," Yang explained. "Spread out, but stay in each other's sight."

We all fell silent, knowing the cat would tune in to unusual sounds. Softly, we moved apart and forward.

It wasn't easy, searching for clues across and expanse of desert stone.

I bent low as I walked, squinting for signs.

July sun pounded my back, raised a sweat to sting my eyes, Finally, I stood to mop it away.

Where had everyone gone?


	130. Chapter 130

I didn't want to shout.

I knew they couldn't be far. I was still moving north, assumed they must be too.

Glancing around, I discovered the source of my dilemma. I had wandered up a narrow channel.

It cut between monolithic slabs of ancient granite, gray and time-polished and tall.

It wasn't a dead end I could see clear through to the far side, so I stayed on course.

I walked slowly, hugged the shade of the giant rocks. Still, I rained perspiration.

Suddenly, I sensed movement above my head. I looked up, saw nothing. Tuned my ears, but heard nothing.

A shiver of fear traveled the length of my spine, though my eyes could find no reason.

I stepped back against one side. Opposite me, gravel trickled down the face of the rock.

Something was up there.

Should I run? Freeze? Scream for help?

Not twenty feet away, the cougar slunk into view, assessed his prey, snarled a promise of battle.

I opened my mouth, but the shout stuck fast in my throat. A single thought entered my brain.

The rifle.

The cat snarled louder, maneuvered himself into a better position as my right hand reached for the gun.

I willed myself not to panic, lifted the rifle, tried to sight, by my shaking arms denied me.

Above and slightly in front of me, the mountain lion, all tooth and sinew, tightened his haunches for the pounce.

My finger squeezed, the rifle belched, the bullet ricocheted off the rock, well below my would-be killer.

He didn't even flinch as he leaped.

_I'm going to die, _I thought, my eye catching a glimpse of four-inch claws.


	131. Chapter 131

Suddenly, a loud _crack _shook the rock walls.

Yang's shot caught the cat midair, dropped him at my feet.

I stared, horrified, as he moaned and twitched.

I swear he stared at me as he stuttered his last breath.

My arm ached from the rifle's recoil, my ears rang from the echoed report, and my heard pounded in my ear.

I watched the cat's life ebb away, and didn't know whether to feel relief, satisfaction, or remorse.


	132. Chapter 132

Yang sprinted toward me.

I think he was yelling something, but I'm not really sure.

Because right about then, the ground reached out and grabbed me.

Then everyone came running, yelling and asking questions:

"What happened?"

"You got him?"

"Are you alright?"

Mark and Mike took charge of the cat corpse.

Aunt Raven and Yang took charge of me, or wanted to.

They tried to help me to my feet, but I shook them off, insisted I could take care of myself.

Like I'd really proved _that, _hadn't I?


	133. Chapter 133

I'm not sure why I felt so angry, but on the ride home, I didn't sit plastered to Yang, and I barely said one word.

Finally, he asked, "Okay, what's wrong?:

I shook my head. "I just can't believe how stupid I was. If it wasn't for you . . . "

He reached over and pulled me closer. "Everything's okay."

"No it's not. I mean, I'm grateful to you for coming to my rescue, but . . . "

Yang turned and looked me in the eye. "But what?"

"But what if you hadn't been there? I should have been able to take that shot."

"It was a hard shot, Blake, even for someone with experience."

It was a hard shot, yes, But, "I wasn't paying attention. The cougar got the drop on me."

"One thing you have to remember when hunting predators . . . "

"Yes?"

"It pays to be a better predator."


	134. Chapter 134

Yang didn't stay for dinner that night, sensing my need to be alone.

I know it may sound weird, but looking death square in the eye made me question the unknown.

What happens after we exhale our last breath?

Do we really see an otherworldly light?

Does the Creator send angels to guide us home?

Or when our eyes close, do we forfeit sight?

And will our earthly spirits forever roam?

The questions ran deeper.

Had that cougar killed me, where would I be now?

I lay on the bed, my head a jumble of questions that I knew would find no answers until I actually died.

Fear closed in. Fear of the unknown.

Fear of what I'd been taught to be unshakable truth.

Fear of what I hoped would prove to be unspeakable lies.

My very foundation shook, an earthquake in my gut.

I was all new, right?

So why did the old Blake surface now?

I loved Yang so intensely I just might die without him.

But what if loving him damned me to death just because he wasn't White Fang?

Was loving him now enough to turn my back on life after?


	135. Chapter 135

_Journal Entry, July 2_

I could have died today, probably would have, except Yang shot the cougar who had decided to make me lunch.

That made me wonder if there's a life after death, or anything after we die.

I have no idea what to believe.

I asked Aunt Raven what she believes.

She said she's come to think there is a Creator, but He isn't like the Creator we've been taught to fear.

"The Creator is love," she said. "And He respects love, whether it's between a parent and a child, a man and woman, or friends. I don't think He cares about religion one little bit. Live your life right, Blake. Love with all your heart. Don't hurt others, and help those in need. That's all you need to know. And don't worry about life after death. If it exists, you'll be in a better place."

I hope the Creator respects how I feel about Yang. Because I love him more than anything, even life itself.


	136. Chapter 136

Having decided that, I was all smiles when he came over the next morning, pickup and packed and readied for the trip to the lake.

"It's going to be hot today," Yang said. "Grab your swimsuit."

Swimsuit?

Yang must have read my mind. "I promise to be a gentleman."

I didn't even have tank tops, definitely no bikinis. "I . . . forgot to bring mine."

He smiled. "No problem. We can go in our underwear."

I wasn't sure about that, wasn't sure I wanted to reveal so much skin, my olive complexion.

Yang lifted my up into the truck. "Let's go. It's a long drive."

Not so far, distance-wise, only around thirty-five miles. But most of that was gravel road, and slow, bumpy traveling.

"I'm glad you're feeling better today. I was worried."

"I'm sorry, Yang. I don't know why I got so upset. Half of me feels so together, the other half so confused."

"Confused about what? Me?"

"Not about loving you, Yang. Just what that means." Did it mean damnation? Happily ever after?


	137. Chapter 137

Yang was right.

It was really hot at the lake.

By the time we reached it, around noon, the temperature had soared well into the nineties.

The lake was blue and very small, too small for boats, so it wasn't nearly as crowded as I'd expected.

We found a secluded place to park, hiked up under a thick stand of trees, and spread a thick blanket on a pine-needle carpet.

Yang opened an ice chest filled with soda and beer. I could have chosen the soda.

I didn't.

Beer had never been my favorite, but it tasted fine, ice-cold, on such a torrid day.

Only one problem-I had skipped breakfast. Before I knew it, my head felt full of bubbles and my tongue five inches thick.

Not that Yang hadn't brought food.

He had huge deli sandwiches, carbs and protein to fend off any impending hangovers.

But that day, that hour, that moment, a blossoming buzz felt too great to fight with food.

So when Yang suggested swimming, I didn't hesitate to sprint down to the water's edge.

The sun attacked and my head spun and the sand threatened to blister my feet and it all encouraged me to shed every stitch and dive into the cold, clear water.

I didn't think to do a toe test and surfaced, sputtering.

Yang laughed and caught me in goose-bump-covered arms, hugging me close.

All hints of self-consciousness dissolved, and my nakedness felt delicious wrapped in Yang's water-chilled skin.

"I love you," he said, "and I don't know what that means either, only that you're the most important thing in my life. And I don't want to be without you."

Then he kissed me with a passion he'd not before revealed.

I tasted heaven.

No doubt of this heaven, no worries about what life after death was like and whether or not I was worthy of it, but heaven definitely existed, right there in our perfect union.


	138. Chapter 138

No, we didn't make love right there in the water, but we did merge in a powerful way.

That connection, skin to skin, no barriers, touched mind as much as body.

It was more than a physical awakening, more than the pulse of human closeness.

Yang felt like part of me, something that couldn't be excised without bleeding.

Our love was beginning to feel like "forever" love, a love to carry to the grave.

And, buzzed as I was, I knew in my heart it wasn't just the beer talking.

People walked by and I could sense their eyes, trying to pry beneath the water.

I didn't care one bit if they managed to see some forbidden something.

When they were out of sight, Yang and I dashed for our clothes.

He put on his boxers, I put on my long T-shirt, nothing more except sandals.

Cool and wet, we wandered back to our blanket, hand in hand.

We both had another beer, thinking we should postpone the inevitable.

Finally, I flopped down on my back, inviting his kiss . . . and more.

"If I kiss you, I won't want to stop, don't know if I could."

"I know, Yang," I whispered, scared and excited and uncertain and not unsure at all.

And so he kissed me, everywhere, even my cat ears, making me want to say yes even more.

And he wanted me, too, and he showed me how to make him want me more.

It all felt so right, so how it should be, that I begged him not to stop.

But he paused, long enough to find the protection he'd brought along.

While I waited, every nerve shouted out to be pacified.

And when he did . . .


	139. Chapter 139

I cried out.

It wasn't that it hurt because, except for a brief flash of pain it all felt perfectly wonderful.

Perfectly right.

Our bodies meshed, one, incredibly in sync.

In Yang's arms, I knew no fear, in this ultimate act of giving, no foreboding.

I cried for what I had lost, my best-kept secret, given away.

I cried for what I had gained, the knowledge of Eden, irrevocably learned.


	140. Chapter 140

In the aftermath, I lay shivering, bathed in oppressive heat.

Yang's promises soothed, every syllable sweet.

He held me tightly, as if he thought I'd flee.

But I could never run fast enough to break free of the demon I'd unleashed.

I loved Yang just as much as I had a few minutes before.

In the light of what we'd shared, perhaps I loved him more.

But when I closed my eyes I didn't see Yang's face.

Another silhouette appeared in that dark and dappled space.

It resembled Dad.


	141. Chapter 141

A couple more beers made Dad's face disappear, but mostly because the rest of the day is pretty much a blur.

We took another icy dip, washing away evidence.

Still, I didn't feel exactly clean.

Yang insisted I try some lunch, great deli sandwiches that tasted like cardboard due to the beer.

Then we settled down beneath low, lacy branches for a nap before driving home.

I woke, minus the buzz, plus a pounding headache.

In fact, I ached in places I never knew could ache.

Yet there was Yang, beside me, looking more incredibly beautiful than ever.

He whispered a drowsy "I love you."

And I settled into his arms, minus the buzz, plus a pounding headache, and I said, "Make love to me."


	142. Chapter 142

_Journal Entry, July 3_

Okay, we did it.

Yang and I made love.

Twice.

The first time it kind of hurt, and maybe I had too much beer to really understand what a big step it was.

Huge.

Nothing can ever again be exactly the same.

The second time it was better, even if I didn't feel so hot. (My first hangover-ugh!)

Yang is so gently, so caring.

Sun would have attacked, done the deed, and disappeared.

I'm so glad it was Yang.

There were a couple of bad moments-I'll be sore for days.

And tonight the guilt train is rolling right across my mind.

When we came through the door, Aunt Raven took one look and I swear she knew the whole story.

That woman is psychic! Or maybe our body language gave it away.

I'm not worried about Aunt Raven.

But Dad is a whole other story.


	143. Chapter 143

The fourth of July dawned warm and bright.

I stayed late in bed, covers kicked off, not asleep but thinking about the day before.

Where did it leave Yang and I? Would we have to make love every time we saw each other?

Maybe I wanted that? I did and didn't. I mean, I didn't want that to become _all _we were about.

And yet, part of me wanted to fall right back into his arms, to let him carry me up and away over that sensual rainbow.

I was more confused than ever. More in love than ever. More worried than ever about what would happen if my parents found out.

Eventually, Aunt Raven called me downstairs.

If she was, indeed, suspicious, she never said a word.

Instead, she asked, "How about helping out with the pie baking?"

There's something therapeutic about cutting shortening into flower, rolling the dough into thin rounds, then slicing apples and peaches.

Adding sugar and cornstarch and pinches of spices until all those basic ingredients become perfect brown pies, cooling on the kitchen counter.

Aunt Raven and I worked for three hours, talking and laughing and fighting sweat in the gathering heat, half over, half July, come to call.

Finally, she ventured, "Looks like you and Yang are getting serious. He's a fine young man, Blake. Still, I am ultimately responsible for how things turn out. I hope you know that I've come to love you like my own daughter. I don't want to see you hurt, Blake."

It was a stunning admission.

For a woman of few words, a woman who let her eyes say what her lips often wouldn't.

Her admission deserved my own, "I love you, too, Aunt Raven. And I love Yang."

"I know you do, girl. And I believe he loves you. And I thought I told you to call me Raven." She chuckled. "If only love were enough. . ."

"I wish I could promise I won't get hurt. I can't. But I have to take that chance."

She knew, too well, the probable consequences if it all came crashing down.

"Aunt Raven-"

"Raven."

"Raven, I've begged for love for seventeen years. Without you, I would never have found it."

"The Creator knows I would like to believe otherwise. If ever a child deserved love, it's you, Blake."

"Well then . . . " I smiled. "Looks like we're on the same page. Because you deserve love too."

We hugged, passing a jolt of love between us, then went back to our baking.


	144. Chapter 144

Once the chicken was fried, and the salads made, Aunt Raven and I went upstairs to change.

She spent a long time in the bathroom, washing and plaiting her long black hair and-I noticed when she finally reappeared-applying a ladylike amount of makeup.

She had chosen to wear a light golden sundress, which showed off her long black hair and hugged her bodice tightly.

In cutoffs and a black tank top, I was definitely outclassed.

It was enough to make any cowboy swear off his herd.

Dis she expect a special one at the evening's festivities?


	145. Chapter 145

Fourth of July was a big deal in Vacuo.

Hard working people, ready to let down and party, make for a rowdy crowd.

The drinking and socializing start early, go all day.

Aunt Raven and I got to the park at about three P.M., lugging a big canopy, baskets, and coolers, filled with enough food for twenty.

Yang and his father were due to arrive anytime. While we waited, we sat tapping our toes to live-and very loud-music.

I finally spotted Yang weaving through the crowd. Beside him was a man who could have been his brother, if not for the black hair.

Yang's father was every bit as handsome as he was.

Every now and then, they'd stop to talk to people they knew and a couple of times fingers pointed in our direction.

Small town, everyone knows everyone, and where they're sitting apparently.

As they drew nearer, I noticed Aunt Raven straighten her posture, find her prettiest smile.

Yang's dad was her special one? Why had she never mentioned anything?

Finally, they found their way over to us. Yang pulled me to my feet, gave me a big kiss, then introduced us.

"Dad, this is Blake. You already know her Aunt Raven."

I couldn't have guessed the drama that unfolded next.

But in retrospect, there had been plenty of hints. I'd just been so busy worrying about myself that I never noticed.

Yang's dad gave me a hug. "So glad to finally meet you, Blake. Yang talks about you all the time." Then he turned to Aunt Raven. "Hello Raven. You look wonderful."

Aunt Raven blushed like wine. "Good to see you again, Taiyang."

Taiyang? The Taiyang from her past?

"I'm so sorry about Elaine. How are you doing?"

"I'm holding up, thanks, Raven. Holding up just fine."

"I've meant to stop by, but between cattle and cougars . . . "

I gave Aunt Raven a quizzical look, which she totally ignored.

"Are you hungry? We've got a lot of food here?"

Every time she got nervous, the talk turned to food. "Chicken and biscuits and three kinds of salads . . . "

Definitely nervous. He had to be _that _Taiyang.

"Not to mention pie. Blake helped me with the pies . . . "

Taiyang was _her _Taiyang, and Taiyang was Yang's dad.

How could she have neglected to mention such an important thing?


	146. Chapter 146

I wasn't sure if Yang knew about their history, so I sat, semi-stunned, and watched the two of them reconnect.

As they talked, years and regret seemed to melt away from Aunt Raven's face. She was seventeen again.

Yang's dad kept sliding closer to Aunt Raven . . . or was that just my overactive imagination?

It was kind of surreal, like a ghost had materialized from out of Aunt Raven's past, a ghost who lived right down the road.

Did they never see each other? It seemed they hadn't, but how could that be, with them in such close proximity?

Had Yang's mom known about them? Aunt Raven said she was a friend. And how about Stan? Did he know?

Yang cradled my hand and discussed the pros and cons of the band's raw attempts at bluegrass.

My heart beat faster, just sitting so close to him, and the love I felt for him made me even more confused.

How could Taiyang and Aunt Raven spend so many years, so near each other, and make no effort to rekindle their love?


	147. Chapter 147

After stuffing ourselves, Yang and I wandered off for a little alone time.

The air had cooled a bit, come dusk, and one by one the stars began to fill the darkening sky.

Yang cinched his arm around my waist and as we walked, I noted other women's envious stares.

Having never before been an object of envy, I wasn't sure how to react. Proud or protective.

Once or twice, really pretty women smiled at Yang and that Jolly Green Monster bit into me with razor-sharp teeth.

When we were by ourselves, I got the courage to say, "You could have your choice of pretty women. Why me?"

"You're like the ocean, Blake. Pretty enough on the surface, but dive down into your depths, you'll find beauty most people never see." Yang smiled. "Lucky me, I fell in, headfirst."


	148. Chapter 148

I was dying to know if Yang had any idea about Aunt Raven and his dad.

So as we watched people dance, I casually asked, "How long has Aunt Raven known your father?"

"A very long time, I guess. He said they met in high school."

"Did your mom go to high school with them too?"

"Yeah. They both moved here to Caliente."

"Funny how both he and Aunt Raven ended up here," I tested.

"Yeah, it is kind of a coincidence. In fact, once I heard my parents talking . . . "

Just then a loudspeaker interrupted, "Ladies and gents, the fireworks are about to begin!"

Yang and I held hands as we watched the vibrant lights fill the sky.


	149. Chapter 149

Yang drove me home.

His dad rode with Aunt Raven, and I wondered as we found a place to park beneath the moonlight just what might transpire between the the adult members of our interconnected families.

Did they, too, find a private spot, unroll a quilted sleeping bag in the bed of the pickup? Did they talk and kiss and ultimately shed their clothes to lay naked beneath a sea of stars?

For me, it was something all new, memory in the making.

For Aunt Raven, it would be recollection reborn.

For me, it was awakening.

For Aunt Raven, it would be reawakening.

Of course, maybe they just drove home, said their good nights and nice-to-see-you-agains, and went home to their cold, lonely beds.

The cynic in me thought it likely.

The romantic begged to differ.


	150. Chapter 150

Vibrant singing woke me the next morning.

Aunt Raven was in a very good mood.

I went downstairs without dressing, eager to ask questions.

Poor Aunt Raven didn't know what hit her.

"Yang's dad is your Taiyang? Why didn't you tell me?"

She shrugged. "Didn't seem important."

"Not important? You said he was the love of your life."

"'Was' being the operative word. We're just friends now."

"But he moved to Caliente for _you, _didn't he?"

She shrugged again. "Could be. Didn't much matter by then."

"Sure it did. So how could he marry someone else?"

"You'd have to ask him that. But I was married to Stan."

"But what about after Stan died?"

"Taiyang was married to Elaine by then. Marriage is a contract, Blake."

"But didn't the two of you ever . . . ?" I didn't know what to say.

"Ever what? Fool around? You should know me better than that."

"I do. I'm sorry. But you still love him, don't you?"

"Real love doesn't die, remember? But sometimes that doesn't matter."

Of course it mattered! "So what about now?"

"I don't know about now, girl. I can't predict the future."

"But the two of you are all alone . . . "

She looked at me and grinned. "Not exactly. No, not at all."


	151. Chapter 151

I wasn't quite ready to quit.

"Aunt Raven, I think you should give each other a chance. You looked pretty happy together last night."

"We were happy last night. But we're both carrying luggage around, and that's hard to get past."

I could understand that. Forgiveness wasn't easy. But they had to try. "Please try."

"If it makes you feel any better, he's taking me to dinner Friday night. So I guess we'll try."

Yes! One more thing bothered me. "I don't think Yang knows about the two of you."

"Taiyang might feel differently, but I would never ask you to keep secrets, especially from someone you love."

I shook my head. "I don't want to keep secrets from Yang, but I don't want to tell him."

Mostly because I didn't want him to know exactly how terrible my father could be.


	152. Chapter 152

July took on a rhythm.

Aunt Raven and I spent weekdays warding off the heat wave and trying to keep things watered.

The garden would wither without attention in the cool of early morning.

The simmer of afternoon kept us basking in front of a big whirling fan.

Hot thoughts about Yang crept into my sick little brain. I felt out of my mind with missing him when he wasn't by my side.

After the sun drifted low and bloomed rose, he'd come rolling around for evening visits, coaxing my personal temp well above the one hundred mark, no matter what the thermometer happened to read.

On weekends, we'd drive to the lake or take the horses for long morning rides, always bringing the rifles along.

I would never be unprepared again.

Yang taught me more about the finer points of marksmanship than I would ever have learned on my own.

I was good.

He was awesome.

Making love indeed became an integral part of our couplehood.

Yang taught me a lot about that, too, and somehow the more I learned the less guilt I suffered.

Taiyang and Aunt Raven were seeing each other fairly regularly.

Yang didn't talk about that much, so one day I asked, "Does it bother you?"

"A little," he admitted. "Mom's only been gone for eight months. But I don't want him to be lonely, and I can't think of a better person for him than your Aunt Raven."

I couldn't either.

So with Yang's blessing, Taiyang was dating Aunt Raven.

And I was dating Yang.

They would go out on weekends.

We saw each other whenever we could.

Sometimes we all had dinner.

Sometimes we all saw a movie together.

Most of the time, they went their way.

And, always, they let us go ours.

It was all too good to be true.

It was approaching happily ever after.

It was Paradise, awaiting Armageddon.


	153. Chapter 153

Toward the end of the month, a letter came from home.

I tore it open eagerly, to find this, from Velvet:

_Dear Blake,_

_I hope your summer has been wonderful. Why haven't you written? Too busy chasing tumbleweeds? Ha ha. _

_Chasing tumbleweeds would be better than how things are here. Some vacation! All I do all day is take care of the kids. I wouldn't mind so much if I had you here to talk to. I wouldn't even ask you to help! Well, not much, anyway._

_Mom is due in October, and she's gained fifty pounds already. All she does is sit, eat, watch TV, and pack on pounds while we kids survive on oatmeal and peanut butter._

_You'd think Dad would be happy, what with Samuel coming and all. But he's not. Friday nights are worse than ever. Sometimes Dad gets home, already half-drunk. I always hope he'll get home totally drunk so he'll maybe pass out right away. You can see the anger growing inside him. Where did all that come from, anyway? And now it has nowhere to go. He can't hit Mom because of the baby._

_Anyway, I miss you. Hope you come home soon._

_Love you lots,  
Your Favorite Sister  
(I am your favorite sister right?)_


	154. Chapter 154

It was my first real tinge of homesickness, despite the less-than-rosy picture.

I did miss Velvet, did miss the girls, and I wondered if they had changed as much as I.

Then I had to laugh. It had only been two months.

How much could everyone change? Surely not nearly as much as I.

I had discovered love, sex, acceptance.

I had found a place where I felt like I counted, a place I belonged.

I had come to think of myself as not bad to look at, not bad to be with, surely not in league with the devil.

I had come to think of myself as almost a woman, and a woman of value.

I had come to think of myself as my own.

So why did I still feel such connection with a place that made me question my place in the world?

Of course, when Yang stopped by, that perceived connection severed immediately.

No thought of Vale as we watched a Caliente sunset.

No thought of Velvet while Yang discussed his day.

Not thought of my sisters when he took me in his arms.

No thought of home as his lips mastered mine.

No thought of Mom with the slip of my clothing.

No thought of Dad to interfere with the blending of our bodies, the mesh of skin and the song of hearts in love.


	155. Chapter 155

August rumbled in literally.

The first week, each morning segued into afternoon with the grumble of thunder over western hills.

The sky seethed with ozone, leaking a scent hot and electric.

The animals scrambled for cover at its steady approach.

Aunt Raven and I would sit on the porch, watching carbonated clouds bubble and blacken the sky like a spill of cola.

"We could use the rain," Aunt Raven would say, "but dry lightning is a monster no thirsty patch of desert wants to meet."

I didn't know what she meant until the day I saw the greasy smoke, off in the distance, signaling sagebrush burning.

I've heard a high-rise fire is a terrible thing, flames engulfing large buildings, one story at a time, like a bonfire.

But a brush fire is almost unstoppable.

Not enough water in all of Vacuo to stop a blaze fueled by drought-drained sage and fed by a furious wind.

Took five days of helicopters and tankers and bulldozers working almost around the clock, plus one day of blessed pounding rainfall, to control that monster fire.

Both Yang and his Dad were volunteer firefighters.

Aunt Raven and I saw them only if they happened to be there when we delivered food and water to the fire line.

All the men would trundle in, faces smudged with soot, bodies in need of rest and spirits down.

We did our best to cheer them up, but smiles were in short supply that week.

Even Yang's cheerfulness had dissolved in a sea of exhaustion.

I saw him twice in five days. Both times he said the same thing. "I can keep going, But i need to hear one thing and only you can say it."

So I did. "I love you, Yang. And I'm very proud of you."

The old Blake might have seen the events of that week for what they were.

An omen.

The gut-wrenching stab of separation, with Yang away for five days, was a sign of things to come.

But the improved Blake couldn't intuit even a whisper of impending implosion.

Happiness, you see, is just an illusion of Fate. a heavenly sleight of hand designed to make you believe in fairy tales.

But there's no happily ever after.

You'll only find happy endings in books.

Some books.


	156. Chapter 156

The rest of the story began with another letter from home:

_Hey,_

_I shouldn't be writing this, and I can only hope that whoever gets the mail there isn't a busybody. I just don't know where else to turn. Not that I expect you to do anything. Please don't. It would only make things worse._

_I need someone to know what's going on here, Blake. I need to believe someone cares. If anyone does, it's you. Remember I told you Dad doesn't hit Mom anymore, because of the baby? Well, he hasn't exactly quit his Friday night boxing matches. Only now his opponent isn't Mom. It's me._

_Remember how we wondered why she didn't tell anyone? Now I know. It isn't only fear. It's embarrassment. You can't show your face in public without feeling like you've done something wrong. Something you needed to be punished for. Not only that, but everyone knows you've been bad. Somehow you've been bad._

_But I haven't done anything wrong. Haven't been bad. So why do I feel guilty? Am I sick, or what?_

_Miss you,  
Velvet._

* * *

**A/N: I don't know about you guys, but imagining Velvet getting beaten really stirs up some anger. Anyways, this is where the lovey-dovey stuff stops. So just as a warning, it's going to get darker again from now on, like it was in the beginning.  
**

**\- Silas Dane**


	157. Chapter 157

Anger sweated from my pores, acid.

I could picture Velvet, going to White Fang meetings wearing sunglasses.

Was that a lie too, Mr. Crandall?

Or maybe Dad was too smart to leave bruises on his teenage daughter. Maybe he planted his anger where no one was likely to see it.

Not that anyone would look hard enough to take notice until school started again in September. Teachers were trained to notice, weren't they?

But what if he really hurt her?

Velvet didn't have near the padding Mom did.

And who could she turn to if he did?

Who cared but me?

I didn't know what to do.

If I confided in Aunt Raven, she'd want to do something, call someone-Dad or the cops.

Velvet was right. If Dad knew she had told anyone, even me, maybe even _especially _me, who knew what his reaction might be?

I stared out the window, shaking with anger and frustration.

Then I crumbled and cried, sinking in helplessness.


	158. Chapter 158

The letter ate at me for days.

It seemed like I could do something, should do something.

But what?

I didn't dare call the police. I had no solid proof and Dad would just deny it.

Besides, I no longer trusted the law, nor those who had sworn to uphold it.

I couldn't call Mr. Crandall. In his eyes, Velvet was just another one of Dad's possessions.

Anyway, he probably already knew the truth through one of Dad's sicko confessions.

I wanted to tell Yang. But what if he said something to his dad?

What evil memories that would stir!

No way could I stand the idea of becoming a wedge between Taiyang and Aunt Raven.

I hated my dad. Every time I thought my life was okay after all, pretty good, in fact; every time I believed I had escaped the gravity of his terrible sphere, he reached out.

Whatever the distance between us, he grabbed hold and shook till my teeth rattled.


	159. Chapter 159

Between that and starting my period, I was half puppy, half bitch for several days, seesawing from tucking my tail between my legs to howling at the moon, sun, and everyone close by.

Poor Yang and Aunt Raven didn't know quite what to make of me. Aunt Raven had seen me mad before, but Yang hadn't. And I wasn't just mad. I was furious, with no reasonable way to vent.

Hormones and hatred do not make a manageable team. Anyone other than Yang would probably have written me off right then and there.

He didn't.

Finally, after an over-the-top snappish episode, he put one hand on each of my cheeks and asked, "What happened, Blake? Why are you acting this way?"

"Nothing much," I answered, way too snippily. "Except I'm swollen up like a rotten gourd, my face is threatening to explode with acne, and . . . and . . . my dad is beating my little sister."


	160. Chapter 160

Yang opened his arms.

I fell into them gratefully. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to tell you that."

"Why are you sorry? Blake, we are nothing if we can't tell each other our secrets."

I wished it were only my secrets in need of telling. "There's a lot more. Dad . . . "

Yang listened to a long recitation of my father's deeds, minus the part about his own dad.

"I'm scared, Yang. For Velvet and my sisters. For me. And for you."

"Don't worry about me. I can take care of myself, and I swear I'll keep you safe."

I knew he would do the best he could, maybe even offer himself up.

"I'm not sure how to help your sisters, though. Give me some time to think, okay?"

I thought he'd run if he knew.

Instead, he offered help, not that I believed he could possibly help.

I thought he'd turn his back, close his heart, sink away.

Instead, he promised sanctuary.

Of course, he didn't really know Dad, the power of his demons, or his warped moral code.

Safety was a relative term. I was safe here, hugged by sanity.

But even with Yang by my side, the closer I let myself get to home, the more uncertain our future would become.


	161. Chapter 161

I made Yang promise not to tell his dad or Aunt Raven.

So now my nasty family secrets could gnaw at him, too.

Neither of us could figure a way to stop my dad without calling in the authorities.

"We could call Secret Witness," Yang suggested. "That way no one would know who made the call."

I debated for a day or two. Would Dad think Velvet called? Someone from the White Fang who actually cared? Me?

What would the cops find when they got to our house? Signs of abuse? Simple squalor?

Nothing of importance?

What would they do if they found something _off_? Issue a warning?

Put the girls in foster care?

Would Dad have to go to court?

Get counseling? Would that help or only make him angrier still?

Too many questions, with no clear answers. I was more confused than ever.

And it began to show.


	162. Chapter 162

I didn't smile.

I didn't talk much.

I picked at my food.

One morning, Aunt Raven asked, "Feeling all right?"

I stared at the table. "Okay, I guess."

"Everything good between you and Yang?"

I nodded my head. "Everything's okay."

"Well, seems to me you're not the Blake I'm used to."

How could I deny it? "I know."

"So will you tell me what's wrong, please?"

I shook my head. "I can't."

"Blake, you're not in the family way, are you?"

"No! That's not it." I almost wished it was.

At least then.


	163. Chapter 163

_Journal Entry, August 14_

Something inside me is shouting, some instinct telling me to run, run fast before everything falls apart, like an old dust rag.

I don't know why I believed I could actually find happiness and hold on to it. Dad won't let that happen, will he?

I should have known I couldn't escape his ghosts. They followed me here and waited for the perfect moment to jump out and say boo.

The Creator must be punishing me after all. I truly was beginning to believe Aunt Raven's theories about love and the Creator being one and the same.

I truly thought the love Yang and I share was blessed by Him, that he would forgive the fact I was with a human.

Maybe the White Fang was right.

Maybe I'm selfish.

Maybe I'm evil.

Maybe I'm damned.

I feel like I'm on a tightrope, barely balancing. I know it's a long way down and I'm afraid I'm destined to crash.


	164. Chapter 164

Part of that feeling of dread came from the fact that the new school year was closing in.

The semester would start in less than two weeks.

Where did that leave me?

I still hadn't heard one word from home. School here? There?

Torn between needing to stay and wanting to leave, wanting to be closer to Yang, how would I survive, not seeing him for weeks, maybe months, at a time?

Yang quit his job, to spend more time with me before he had to pack up and go.

As the end of the month drew nearer, each day grew shorter than the last.

Time became the enemy.

I could feel the hours slip away, drift away, rush away, beyond our reach forever.

I wanted to melt, make him drink me down so he would carry me inside him.

Though we must have eaten, must have slept, it seemed all we did was make love.

Each time better.

Each time sweeter.

Each time more frantic than the last.

One of those times, I can't remember exactly which day, only that it was in the cool of morning.

Yang rolled away and said, "Oh shit."

I knew instantly that the Creator had already closed His ears. "What's wrong?"

"Don't panic, Blake, but the condom tore."

My parents had never let me take sex ed, but the panic seemed appropriate.

"I mean, the odds are long that anything will go wrong."

Everything was going wrong lately. Why should this be any different?

I didn't want to consider the odds. I didn't know what to say.

"Blake? Are you okay? Say something."

"Maybe I'd better go clean up."

It wasn't much, but it was all I could think to do.


	165. Chapter 165

One more thing to fret about, in my bed at night.

Just add it to the list, growing longer by the minute.

I tried not to stress too much over it.

After all, with so many tangibles punching my gut, a "might be, but probably nothing to worry about" didn't exactly top my list.

And the phone call that came a day or two after pushed everything else to the back of my mind.

Aunt Raven summoned me.

And her eyes told me all I needed to know. "That was your father. He wants you home."

I'd expected it. Hoped for it. Dreaded it. So why did I feel so surprised? Why did I let myself cry?

"Don't do that, Blake. You know I don't want to see you go. If you cry, I will too."

I coughed back a sob. "But what about you? I don't want to leave you all by yourself."

"I've been by myself for years. Besides, thanks mostly to you, I've got Taiyang in my life again."

The thought comforted me a little. "But what about Yang? What if they won't let me see him?"

"Love is stubborn. You two will find a way to see each other. But please be smart about it."

She knew, as I did, exactly what was at stake. So I felt safe admitting. "I'm scared, Aunt Raven."

"You just have to make it through this year. Then leave. You always have a second home." Aunt Raven smiled. "Here."


	166. Chapter 166

That same day, another letter arrived from Velvet, too late to serve as a warning:

_Dear Blake, _

_I heard Mom and Dad talking. They want you to come back home so you can help take care of the baby. I guess you've got enough credits to graduate only going to school half days._

_I thought I'd be happier, having you home. But I changed my mind. If you're okay there, and you can find a way to stay, don't come home, Blake. _

_Because then Dad wouldn't just hit me. He'd hit you, too._

_Love,  
Velvet._


	167. Chapter 167

Dad wanted to come get me the Saturday before school started.

Although he wasn't particularly anxious to make that long trip again.

So when Aunt Raven mentioned a friend of hers was driving to Beacon, he felt more than willing to give me permission to ride along.

Luckily, he had no clue that person was the man I had fallen desperately in love with.

The night before we left, Aunt Raven and Taiyang fixed a big dinner, and when I came downstairs, there were gifts on the table.

First I opened Taiyang's, a book on horsemanship, so I could practice up for next summer.

Aunt Raven handed me a small package. Inside was a cell phone. "You can call me anytime. Don't worry about minutes. I've got them covered."

Face red, but brave in spite of it, Yang offered an even smaller box. My hands shook as I opened it.

Set in a gold promise ring, three small diamonds glittered. "One for you, one for me, one for us," he said sweetly. "I love you."

Aunt Raven started to cry.

"You said not to do that," I scolded, eyes tearing up too.

Taiyang grinned. "Women! You gotta love 'em. Now how about dinner? I like my steak rare. What about you?"

Our last night together defined bittersweet.

It was beautiful, laden with stars and the serenade of crickets, barn owls, and bullfrogs, late summer voices.

It was sorrowful, filled with frail promises that our bloom into family would not wither with time, distance.

It was spectacular, a vision of love perfected, two humans joined in earthly lust and passion.

It was the worst night of my life, because no matter how hard I tried to believe it would all work out in the end . . .

The old Blake resurfaced.

To tell the new Blake she was crazy.

Whoever directed her heavenly soul to be placed in this body had suffering in mind.

Just my luck, my angel mentor was tilted a bit to the sadistic side.

But why punish an innocent, unless in the end everyone was guilty of nonredeemable deeds, programmed by some sibling, or so the White Fang claimed, of the Creator above?


	168. Chapter 168

I thought I knew "sad", but saying goodbye to Aunt Raven was like stepping into quicksand, knowing it was there.

"Whatever happens," she said, "I want to know that you have given my life back to me. It was a gift I never believed possible, and I thank you, from the depths of my heart. But more importantly, you are a gift, to all who know you, whether or not they realize it. If they don't, they are blind. You have a special place in this world. All you have to do is find it. Do not give in to those who would crush your dreams like nutshells. And never turn away from forever love."

Climbing into Yang's truck, driving away from Caliente and back toward Vale, was sorrow, defined.


	169. Chapter 169

We made the long drive even longer, stopping several times along the way to stretch our legs, enjoy the scenery and each other.

At lunchtime, we pulled off into a stand of trees.

Yang reached down under the seat an extracted a sizeable cardboard box. "You hide this," he said, "somewhere your dad will never look. This is your trump card."

Inside the box was a pistol-a 9mm semiautomatic Glock 19.

"It's accurate as hell. But you need to practice now, and promise me you'll stay sharp."

He spent the next half hour helping me master control of the law enforcement's favorite handgun.

I wasn't sure where I could hide it, but I was damn well going to find a place. Armed with a gun like that, I felt safe.

At least as safe as I was likely to feel under my father's roof.


	170. Chapter 170

About fifteen minutes away from home, we stopped for a private good-bye.

And I tasted in our last barrage of delectable kisses a growing sense of dread.

And I felt in our final embraces a strong premonition not to let him go.

Promises to stay in touch via cell phone helped a little.

Vows to visit when he could did not help at all.

Tears puddled, spilled, soaked Yang's shirt like a salty stream, fed by a downpour of despair, rolling into a river of mourning.

He dropped me off early evening, just past suppertime.

Inside, we could hear the dinner commotion, and it almost felt like a welcome home.

Which was good, because I got no real welcome home, other than the girls squealing hello; Mom glancing up from the TV to say hi; and Dad and Johnnie; singing together out back.

I was glad Dad didn't see Yang. But Mom and the girls did when he carried my bags to the door.

Mom thought to ask who he was and I gave a generic answer, which she accepted without comment.

Velvet, of course, knew better. She waited for the scoop until later that night. Whisper time.

Meanwhile, I walked through the door with my backpack full of books and two suitcases, one filled with homemade clothes. The other carried a new cell and a new gun, tucked well inside a new set of clothes and beneath a new quilt, which Aunt Raven sent with me. No longer the new Blake.

I knew that as soon as Dad stumbled into the kitchen. "Well, look who's home. Get me a bowl of ice cream."

With that, he let me know from the get-go that life in the Belladonna house hadn't changed one bit. And if I somehow thought _I _had, well, I was most definitely mistaken.


	171. Chapter 171

I got Dad his ice cream without comment, mostly because I didn't want to take a chance on a boxing match.

Maybe it was the L-trytophan, or maybe it was just Johnnie, but Dad fell asleep early.

Mom stood and made her way to bed. She definitely gained a lot more than an eight-pound baby.

It didn't seem the girls had grown so much. Not as much as I had, anyway.

They were a lot easier to put to bed, though. Maybe they didn't want to chance Dad's wrath either.

Velvet and I waited until the house was dead asleep before filling each other in.

By then, I was so grateful for the silence that I really didn't want to talk. But I did.

We both held back a little.

I talked about riding horses, herding cattle, driving pickups.

She talked about camp-swimming, arts and crafts, White Fang propaganda.

I told her I didn't go to one White Fang meeting all summer.

She told me they went every week, despite Mom's morning sickness.

I talked about Aunt Raven, confessed her sordid secrets about our father.

Which opened the door to Velvet's own confession about Dad's cruelty.

I listened to her outline of his face slaps, hair yanks, and punches that bruised.

She didn't tell me then the worst of it-a belt beating that made the welts bleed.

I admitted almost everything about Yang, omitting only the part about making love.

Velvet looked at my locket, my promise ring, and though she must have suspected the rest of it . . .

She respected that secret. Never even asked the question that had to have been on her mind.

Just like I respected her unfinished tale, though I knew there was more.

Some confidences require the right moment, even between favorite sisters.

We talked late into the night and it almost felt good being home, sharing a bed with someone I cared about, and who cared about me, someone I could gush to about Yang, someone eager to hear that forever love wasn't just an invention of romance authors and fairy tales, but something vital and viable. Something to trust in and hold on to when the screaming started and blows fell.


	172. Chapter 172

For everyone else, it was just like I'd never left, just like there had never been another Blake but the one they'd chased away.

The next morning, we ate breakfast, went to the usual White Fang meeting. No one at the meeting acted like I'd even been gone.

Mr. Crandall did offer an inquisitive stare, trying to assess the success-or failure-of my summer "punishment".

I tried not to look smug, to avoid future problems, but it wasn't easy, half listening to bogus and pathetic talks.

Why hadn't I noticed it before-how everyone said virtually the same thing and no one seemed blown away by the meaning of their words?

I mean, if the Creator actually tapped me on the shoulder and whispered truths into my ear, I'd definitely be impressed! And I'd show it.


	173. Chapter 173

And then school started my senior year.

I should have been excited, but it just seemed lame.

Trigonometry.

Astronomy.

Government.

I needed them to graduate, but after that, what for?

I took creative writing for English and for my elective, Intro to Aviation, just in case I ever needed to fly an airplane. (Right after I bought my first car!)

I did need a PE credit too. Lucky me, they counted the shooting club.

But all the rest-dances, pep rallies, football games-meant nothing. And, with the exception of Velvet, not one of my schoolmates meant a damn thing either.

I wasn't one of them, not that I'd ever really felt like I was. But now I felt miles removed.

Miles above.

And I liked it up here.

For one thing, being up there, it was easy to look down on Sun and Cinder.

In fact, it wasn't hard to look down on Neptune and Weiss.

As for Becca and Emily and the rest of the White Fang crowd, well, they'd always been relatively worthless, anyway.

I did buddy up with Trevor, a total germ whom I'd known since fifth grade, completely because he had a car-a beater, but who cared?

At least I had a ride that wasn't Mom or Dad.

I could tell that Trevor liked me, and I played that to the max.

He was a good White Fang boy, meaning goofy, going to every meeting, and soon in the market for a good wife.

He was just the kind of guy my parents would approve of.

But my heart belonged to someone else better.


	174. Chapter 174

I tried to talk to Yang every day, usually at lunch.

Just hearing his voice made everything all right.

His classes were hard, he said, but not nearly as hard as not having me close.

For me, forever love was only strengthened by distance. The weird thing was, only months before, I had thought this kind of love was something to veer wide around.

But I wasn't afraid anymore.

Yang was the first thing on my mind every morning.

He was the last thing I thought of, drifting off.

I couldn't wait to see him, fall into his kisses, fold into his body.

Every atom of me missed him.


	175. Chapter 175

The first couple of weeks, things weren't so bad.

At school, I tried to project the new Blake.

Attractive.

Desirable.

That did come in handy the first time I turned a corner and ran into Cinder and Sun.

I flashed a cool smile, put my nose in the air, and strode right by.

Here's the good part.

As I walked away in new form-fitting jeans, I heard Cinder hiss, "Are you checking her out?"

I only wished they knew where the self-confidence had come from, who had given me my smile.

Wouldn't Cinder take a second look at Sun? Wouldn't Weiss turn chartreuse with jealousy?

I bet even Ms. Rose would gawk and run home to her spicy novels.

And Yang belonged to me.

At home, I reverted back to the old Blake, the one unlikely to draw much attention to herself.

Although Mom was driving me crazy.

"Blake, please go check on the girls. Blake, would you vacuum? Blake, start the veggies." (Like she was eating them!)

I tried to stay patient with the girls. But for three of us, hormones were an issue.

The others bickered constantly. "I had that first."

"Did not."

"You give it back."

"I won't."

"I'll tell Mom and she'll tell Dad."

That last one often worked.

Dad was getting ready to go hunting. Lucky him, he got a deer tag.

To be honest, he was as relaxed as I'd ever seen him.

"Gonna fill up that freezer with deer, long as I can get far enough up in those hills." (Meaning pray we don't get early snow.)

Privately, I thought deer was secondary. He missed killing, and now he'd have a chance to scratch that itch.


	176. Chapter 176

But then things got tough at home.

A big gathering of protesters was expected at the capitol the following week, when representatives met with the governor. They would protest the legislation to allow a railway connecting Vale to Vacuo.

That Friday evening Dad hit Johnnie early, trying to dull the edge. "Dumb protesters. Reminds me of the past. Who do those shitheads think they are?"

I can't believe I said a word, dared to express an opinion. "It's called free speech, Dad. It's guaranteed by law, you know."

Dinner table babble fizzled as Dad put down his fork. "No one has a right to question the government, missy. Especially not those liberal loudmouths."

Damn the new Blake! She just wouldn't take the hint. "Do you know how many people could possibly die from rock slides on the site they planned to establish a train route? It's just dumb."

_Dumb _was Aunt Raven's and Yang's term for it. Dad was suitably impressed. "Did I hear you say 'dumb'? What kind of word is that for a daughter of mine to use?"

I should have stopped.

I didn't. "Dumb is exactly what it is, Dad. A rock slide colliding with a train could kill dozens of people."

Dad pushed back from the dinner table, jumped to his feet. "I will not tolerate that language from you. You will respect me and all the things I stand for. . . ."

I really don't know what got into me, but I brought my eyes level with his and said, "Not if one of the things you stand for is killing innocent people."


	177. Chapter 177

Worst idea ever.

In one very quick movement, he came around the table, grabbed my hair, pulled me out of the chair, tossed me to my knees on the floor.

I could hear the girls scramble, suffered a hot wind of Johnnie WB. "You little bitch. You live in my house. Eat my food. I'm not putting up with your shit anymore."

He pushed my head against the floor and my face scraped dirty linoleum. That was the best of it. Because then his fist began to wail against my back.

"You will remember who I am."

"You will remember who I am . . . remember who I am." His mantra fell, rhythmic accompaniment for his drumming.

Finally, he tired, or he could no longer resist Johnnie's call. I just lay there, afraid to move, hoping he'd missed everything vital.


	178. Chapter 178

_Journal Entry, September 15_

Okay, I was really stupid.

Spouted off to Dad.

And boy did he give me a major reminder about manners at the dinner table.

I'm lying here on my stomach because my back feels mushy and I know it must be a mess. It doesn't really hurt, thanks to eight painkillers I took. That's probably enough to kill me. Wonder if the painkillers dull the pain of its killing you.

Velvet helped me to bed, iced the worst of the bruises.

Mom just sat glued to reality TV, like it could be half as good as the very real show in the kitchen tonight.

I'm trying hard to despise Dad for what he did to me.

But part of me thinks I deserved it.

Besides, compared to other episodes in the James Belladonna saga, this chapter was nothing.


	179. Chapter 179

Dad took off hunting in the dark of the next morning.

I heard him go.

Once the painkillers wore off, I didn't get much sleep.

It sort of surprised me that he'd head off into the hills, with Mom so close to her due date.

But Mom insisted she wasn't ready to go into labor yet.

And I guessed she should know.

At least I didn't have to look at Dad, make him breakfast, bring him ice cream.

In the afternoon, Velvet took the girls outside to play while Mom indulged in a nap.

I used the time to sneak a call to Yang and tell him what had happened.

I got his voice mail, so didn't admit more than how very much I loved him.

Then I called Aunt Raven, not to detail my destruction, but to hear the voice of someone who cared.


	180. Chapter 180

Easy enough, come Sunday to find things to despise: starting with Mr. Crandall, sitting up front, defining at least three of my favorite swear words. He should want to help me, help any woman condemned to a man's fist.

I looked at Mrs. Crandall, all gray and wrinkled like a rhinoceros, and I wondered if she had ever had to come to meetings propped up by a half-dozen painkillers.

Other women passed my seat.

I assessed each, seeking signs.

This building, disguised as a meetinghouse, was rather like a hive.

A backward hive, for honeybees, at least, have the good sense to worship the female that gifts them all with life.

They do not hold their drones in such high esteem.

But here, in this hive of hornets, the males flitted flower to flower, pollinating and stinging and injecting their poison.

I hated everything this place stood for, except the one thing it claimed.

And miserably failed to represent.

The Creator.

Late that Sunday night, Dad returned from his trip.

He pulled Velvet and me out of bed to help him unload a five-point buck from the top of the car.

Gutted but not skinned, the deer from behind looked merely asleep.

But when we came around in front, death was everywhere-in the thick crimson ropes and spatters on the hood, windows, and doors; in the repulsive perfume leaking from the animal's gaping belly; and in its frigid stare.

Oh, most definitely, death was rampant there.

I staggered a few steps away from the car and vomited foreboding.


	181. Chapter 181

By the time I got up for school the next day, the buck had been neatly butchered, wrapped, and stacked into freezer-size packages.

The hide, head, and other detritus were bagged and left for the trash man.

Dad's speed and skill with a butcher knife were straight out of a novel: _The Silence of the Fawns._

Just another reminder to keep my mouth shut about Friday night.

I sat in class, pulsing pain as my muscles struggled to heal themselves.

Around me the everyday sounds of classrooms and hallways-laughter, locker doors, feet skids on polished floors-echoed.

It was all so normal, all so right.

And I could relate to none of it.

In the past I'd always felt possessed.

Neglected.

Unloved.

School had offered escape from home's daily suffocation.

But now I felt marked.

Branded.

Abused.

Those scars would follow me there from home.

School would never again gift me with haven. It became another chore, something to get over with.

Very soon.


	182. Chapter 182

Dad fired the next volley three weeks later.

It was only Thursday, but Johnnie accompanied him through the kitchen door, up the hall, and into the bathroom.

The two of them found a flood of toilet water.

A plunger revealed the culprit-a sanitary napkin, become quite insanitary by that time.

It belonged to Ulyssa, just past thirteen and never instructed in correct disposal methods. But it could have been Velvet's. Or mine.

Dad called all three of us into the hallway. "Which one of you did this?" Spit dribbled from his mouth and his red eyes were rimmed with anger.

And when I dared look up into them, I found the hunger of the cougar.

Ulyssa crumbled.

But before she could own up, I lied. "I did. I'm sorry."

Then the cougar pounced.

This time, Yang wasn't here to save me from his lethal claws.

A vicious paw struck the side of my face. The nasty slash tore a pierced earring from its lobe.

A second blow caught the other ear, smack where sounds went in.

It made me reel, but I managed to keep my feet, despite the clanging.

At the moment I lifted defensive arms, Dad caught my throat, held tight, applied pressure. And his calloused hands closed tight, I barely heard his snarl, betraying absolutely no pity.

"You don't know what sorry is, little girl. But you will."


	183. Chapter 183

When he was finished, the only thing I was sorry about was coming home in the first place.

I could barely hear, through the throbbing quicksand in my ears.

I could barely swallow through the puffing finger marks around my neck.

I could barely taste, beyond the bulging of my tongue, the coppery flavor of blood, crusting my gums.

But I wasn't sorry I stepped forward.

Ulyssa might have died.

And as I crawled off to bed, a couple very important things forded my soupy mind.

The first was how much easier it was to hate my dad that night.

I'd said nothing but "sorry."

The second was, flushed or not, the Kotex probably should have been mine.

August . . . August . . . ?

It had been almost seven weeks since my last period?


	184. Chapter 184

Velvet tried to comfort me in bed that night, but all I could do was cry.

And I couldn't even tell her the real reason why.

I couldn't be pregnant, could I? (Could!)

If I was, what should I do? (Would it even be up to me to decide?)

Would Yang do the right thing? (Was getting married the right thing?)

Even if he would, would Mom and Dad let me? (Would they rather have me be a single mother?)

Even if they'd let me, is that what I wanted? (Considering my whole take on marriage and kids?)

If I did want to and they said no, what then? (Could we sneak off somewhere and do it?)

Was I pregnant? (Of course I was.)

Would Yang marry me? (Of course he would.)

Was there a way around Mom and Dad? (Of course there was.)

So was that what I wanted? ( . . . . . . . .)


	185. Chapter 185

I couldn't go to school the next day. (I looked like I'd crawled off a battlefield.)

So I had plenty of time to think about it. The more I did, the sicker I became.

Just my luck, one reject condom and the end of my life-one way or another-was well within sight.

And then, out of nowhere, Mom's water broke.

She made a hasty phone call to Dad, but he was busy with a bomb threat and couldn't get away.

After seven babies, this one was destined to come fast.

Mom's contractions were immediately strong and close together. She started to panic, when I volunteered, "I'll drive you."

As Mom grabbed her bag, I loaded Georgia into her car seat, then climbed behind the steering wheel.

Mom did think to ask if I really knew how to drive, so on the way to the hospital, I told her the whole story.

Why not? At that point I had nothing much to lose.

When we arrived, she asked me not to go inside, using some excuse about not wanting Georgia there, and the girls needing someone to come home to.

The real reason was obvious. At hospitals, people ask questions about kids with swollen faces.


	186. Chapter 186

Driving home, I thought how easy it would be to just keep on going.

Except I had Georgia.

Except I had no money and the van was almost empty on gasoline.

Except it would change nothing. I still had decisions to make if my fears proved correct.

Except I needed to talk to Yang before I made any decisions. And I couldn't tell him I was pregnant until I knew for sure.

Except I really, really needed to talk to him right that very minute before I went completely crazy about The Way Things Were-incomprehensible.

Now Dad believed a good White Fang woman should have to ask her husband for money.

Even grocery money was supposed to be a joint decision.

But Mom had a secret cash stash, funded by singles and small change, "borrowed" from Dad's pockets when he and Johnnie passed out.

Like everything in her life, her cash jar was chaotic. I was pretty sure she had no real idea just how much money was inside. So I swiped a few dollars.

Georgia and I took a little ride to the store-and not our usual grocery store, but one where everyone looked like strangers.

There I purchased an Early Pregnancy Test.

Good thing Georgia couldn't read yet, and to keep her from asking too many questions, I bought her a lollipop and a carton of milk for the refrigerator.

We made it home just minutes before the first of three school buses dropped off a brood of Belladonna girls.

I put them straight on their homework.

Then I went into the bathroom, carefully followed the directions, and within a few minutes I had my answer, in a little blue line.


	187. Chapter 187

Pounding on the door brought me out of my semicatatonic state. I scrambled to hide the evidence so Roberta could come in and pee.

On the way past the mirror, I caught sight of a face and had to do a double take.

Could that battered hag be me?

I looked just like Mom, give or take maybe ninety pounds.

Was that who I'd be in a few years?

I had only one person to turn to . . . okay, maybe two. Aunt Raven would never turn me away.

But I needed Yang.

I went into my bedroom and removed the bottom drawer of my dresser, revealing the hollow underneath.

I had discovered the place quite by accident-no one but me ever moved a dresser to vacuum!

This was my personal secret hiding place, and as I reached for the cell, my hand brushed something cool and hard and instantly comforting-the 9mm. Waiting . . .

Just then the front door slammed.

Dad!

I quickly hid the stash and put the dresser back in place.


	188. Chapter 188

_Journal Entry, October 7_

One of my worst nightmares has come true.

I'm pregnant.

I really don't know what to do. I can't even call Yang until Monday.

Yang. I need him so much.

It's kind of weird, because as scared as I am, a part of me is really happy to have Yang's baby growing inside me.

A little Yang, tucked right there. I need something beautiful inside, because outside I'm so ugly right now.

Mom brought baby Sam home today. Oops . . . Samuel. No need to stir Dad's pot. I'm just starting to heal from the last time. Anyway, Samuel is all red and scrunched up and not pretty at all.

Will my baby look like that?

I don't think so.

My baby will be perfect because he's part Yang, part me.

He?

Where did that come from?


	189. Chapter 189

On Monday, I didn't look so bad, so Dad let me go to school, with one heartfelt warning,

"Family secrets stay behind these doors."

Like I didn't know that. But I simply nodded and kept my mouth shut.

"Come straight home. Your mother needs help."

Like I wouldn't come straight home. Like I didn't know she needed help.

"I want the house picked up. Groceries put away."

He'd bought them the day before. The canned goods still sat in bags on the floor.

"Keep your younger sisters out of your mom's hair."

Yadda. Yadda. She needed her rest. Poor Mom. Having a baby sure took it out of her.

"You do remember how to change a diaper, don't you?"

Every answer I came up with would have gotten me into trouble.

So I just smiled.


	190. Chapter 190

By lunch my fingernails were history.

I got hold of Yang on the first ring.

He asked me where I'd been since Thursday.

I tried to think where to begin . . .

He asked if everything was okay.

I told him no, choked on my words. . . .

He said to tell him the whole thing, he had all day.

I started with the Kotex episode. . . .

He kept completely quiet as I outlined my injuries.

I moved on to driving Mom to the hospital. . . .

He didn't say a word as I segued into the drive to the store.

I broke down into quiet tears. . . .

He begged me not to cry, to finish my story.

I confessed that I was pregnant.

He promised it wasn't the end of the world.

I whispered that I was scared.

He said not to worry, it would be all okay.

I might have believed him, had I not glanced behind me right then.

Cinder and Weiss had heard the whole thing.


	191. Chapter 191

Oh no, the gleeful look on their faces.

Now they possessed a powerful weapon.

If you've never been on the wrong end of gossip, spread by malicious girls, you'd be surprised how fast they can disseminate reputation-crushing information.

By the next day, practically everyone in the school know.

I could see it in their eyes, hear it in their laughter.

Even Velvet found out through the grapevine. She came to me, asked if it was true.

What could I do but admit everything? When she asked what I was going to do, I still didn't have an answer.

But when I called Yang again, he had one.

"Marry me, Blake. You know I love you. I'll love our child, too. And I'll love and take care of both of you until the day I die."


	192. Chapter 192

He wanted me to tell Mom and Dad, but when I considered what happened over a flushed Kotex, I couldn't do it.

"We can't get married without their permission."

"Then we'll wait until I'm eighteen. The baby won't care. Please, Yang. Come and get me." I was in tears.

I was asking him to kidnap me. "Blake, I don't know . . . "

"Yang, if my dad finds out, he's liable to kill me. Or you. Let me tell you a story . . . "

He listened to an ugly recitation about my dad, his dad, and Aunt Raven.

"I didn't want to tell you, but you have to understand what kind of man we're dealing with."

He promised to come pick me up from school on Thursday.

"Why Thursday?" I wasn't sure it could wait another day. "Why not tomorrow?"

"I can't bring you back to the dorm. I have to find a place for us to stay."


	193. Chapter 193

That night I prayed harder than I'd ever prayed before.

"Please, give us the chance to be a family. The right kind of family." I had never cried harder in my life.

In answer, overnight, He delivered an Arctic Event. A freezing cold air mass moved in from the north, bringing early snow to the mountains.

Down below we got sleet, which froze overnight into oceans of black ice.

The temperature hovered just a bit over twenty degrees. Winter, in October.

Meanwhile, word continued to spread.

When Trevor picked me up that day, I knew he'd heard. He clamped his hands on the steering wheel as his old truck fishtailed on the ice.

"Careful, Trevor," I urged.

"You mean careful like you weren't?" he jeered.

I knew he was hurt. I pretended ignorance.

But ignorance, real or imagined, could not halt the ugly rumor mill.

It was déjà vu all over again.

Trevor told Becca and Emily. Becca, who couldn't wait to tell her mom.

Her mom went straight to Rhinoceros Crandall, who shared the good news with her husband.

That evening my mom got a call. I saw her face turn paper white and knew it was all coming down.

But instead of telling Dad right then, she called me into her room. "Tell me it isn't true."

One day. I only had to punt for one day. So I said, "Tell you what isn't true?"

She really didn't want that kind of trouble. "Blake, tell me you aren't pregnant."

I mustered up a look of sheer disbelief. "Why would you even ask such a thing?"

She bought my act. I had punted eighty yards. But it wasn't quite enough.


	194. Chapter 194

Somehow I made it through the next day, and when I saw Yang's truck turn into the parking lot, I ran, almost slipping on the ice.

I flew through the door, into his arms, and the warmth of his kisses.

As we drove off, I noticed Trevor standing there, watching.

What I didn't see was him taking down Yang's license plate number.

Rather than waste time driving to Reno to reach the interstate, Yang chose the more treacherous route over the mountain, into Vacuo.

The highway had been plowed but not well, and even in four-wheel drive, the tires spun a bit on the steeper stretches of icy pavement.

Suddenly, Yang said, "Oh shit."

I turned to see red and blue lights coming up quickly behind us. "Don't stop!" I shouted.

Instead, Yang picked up speed, a bad thing to do in icy conditions. My heart raced as we went sideways around a curve.

Yang corrected, the truck skidded sideways. He turned into the skid, but too hard. "Hold on!" He shouted.


	195. Chapter 195

It was the last thing I ever heard him say.

I floated up into a cloud of white.

Were we in Vacuo?

"Yang?" I heard myself ask.

Movement.

"She's awake," someone said.

"Blake? Can you hear me?"

Did they think I was deaf?

"Where am I?

"Rose Memorial. You were in an accident."

Accident? The truck . . .

"Where's Yang?"

Silence.

Way too much silence.

Where were the faces that went with the voices?

There.

I screamed at them. "Where is Yang?!"

"I'm sorry, honey," said a nurse. "He didn't make it."


	196. Chapter 196

Didn't make it? They couldn't mean . . .

"No! He's not dead! He can't be dead! I won't let him be dead!" A doctor and several nurses struggled as the crazy girl who had lost her mind tried to get out of there.

"Please, God! . . . No! . . . Not dead!. . . . "

Tear-drenched vision began to blur as the doctor injected morphine into my rampant bloodstream.


	197. Chapter 197

But he was.

And so was the baby.

Dead.

Even that precious piece of Yang.

Dead.

All because of Trevor.

Dead.

Trevor, who called my mom.

Dead.

Mom, who called Dad.

Dead.

Dad, who called his buddy the highway patrolman.

Dead.

Everything I loved.

Dead.

Everything I lived for.

Dead.

Why couldn't I be dead too?

It was the least the Creator could have done. . . .

I was in the hospital for over a week. They said my head had to heal.

I knew it never would, not inside.

Mom and Dad didn't visit me once.

Dad had to work.

Mom had a new baby to take care of.

Mr. Crandall came by. He said with prayer and perseverance, the Creator might forgive me one day for loving a human.

Might.

One day forgive me.

I didn't want His forgiveness.

I wanted Him to let me die.

But He wouldn't do that.

No, He wanted to punish me for loving Yang.

Forever.

Aunt Raven was wrong.

The Creator wasn't love, couldn't be love.

Because for me, love was a corpse.


	198. Chapter 198

When I finally did come home, no one was allowed to speak to me.

Dad had officially disowned me.

He wanted me out.

But I had no place to go.

Aunt Raven's was not an option.

I could never look Taiyang in the eye again.

I only hoped he wouldn't blame Aunt Raven for the sins of her niece.

His only son's death was all my fault.

But I knew better, the two of them needed each other more than ever. Needed their own forever love to quell the pain of such loss.

Velvet tried to intercede on my behalf, but Dad wouldn't listen, and Mom knew better than to say a word.

Dad had a new son. He didn't need just one more daughter, especially not one as obnoxious as I.

And so, with nothing at all to lose, and not much to gain but revenge, I began to form my plan.


	199. Chapter 199

See, as far as I'm concerned.

My life is over.

My one forever love has been snatched away, condemned by my own father's rules to die, just because he loved me.

I am without a home, without a single person to love.

And after having discovered love, lived for a short while surrounded by love, that is too much to bear.

I am an outcast, in the White Fang, at school. The few people I once called friends have betrayed me and caused the death of my husband.

Our innocent child.

And so they should die too.

All of them.

Dad.

Mr. Crandall.

Trevor.

Becca.

Emily.

With the pull of a trigger from a 9mm, their lives will end at a White Fang meeting.

Such lovely irony!

And when I finish there, I'll hide in the desert, reload, and go in search of the two bitches who started the rumors.

Cinder.

Weiss.

And Sun, just because.


	200. Chapter 200

Plans made.

I am sitting on the hard cement railing of a freeway overpass.

Legs dangling, I watch the unrelenting motion of normal people in daily transit.

Mind-boggling, how so many separate lives travel in such remarkable unison.

Soul searching, I know that I will never squeeze into such a common mold.

Brain racing, I struggle to reach a decision.

The Creator, whoever He is, only knows which way I'll go.

Heart breaking, I think that if Dad, staring down the sight of a 9mm, would only tell me he loves me,

I could easily change my mind . . . . . .

. . . but he won't.


	201. Author's Note

**Hello readers,**

**Take a moment to collect your thoughts. This is the end of this fanfiction. . . . . Are you ready? Okay. Apart from me taking ****_Burned _****by Ellen Hopkins, and transitioning it into fanfiction for RWBY to share this amazing story, I had another motive for putting this story up on the site. That motive is to get a public message out. **

**To anyone who has to live under these circumstances that are similar to what the protagonist had to deal with, living in constant fear of abuse, living with the notion that no one cares about them, that you're all alone in a cruel world. Do not lose hope, there are people out there willing to listen and do everything in their power to help you. Don't turn your back on them. **

**People are there for you, you're not alone. Whether you believe it or not, you matter to someone, you are important. Let the people who want to help you, help. Life is not always fair, you are not going crazy. There is hope, we are not on this earth to see through one another, but to see each other through. You can endure this, when all you're going through is over, people who care about you will still be there for you, and so will you. We can't really understand what you're feeling, but we can offer our compassion. And you won't drive us away, we're not going to leave or abandon you. There are people who care about you. And they will help you get through what you're going through. **

**I can say that I haven't gone through such a cruel experience. And I hope I or anyone else never will. But please, don't give up. "Keep moving forward" as many people, including Monty Oum, have said countless times. I have nothing more to say, other than thank you for sticking to this story from start to finish. If you have any thoughts you'd like to share about this story, please, if you wish, leave a review. If you have something more personal to share, leave a private message for me.**

**That is all.**

**Thank you,  
Silas Dane**


End file.
